It’s that time of the year. I have a Craccum article to write (guess which one?) because we’re starting to lose steam while everyone else is stressed about Uni, I have other articles to edit, horoscopes to divinate, Honours readings to do, dissertation shit to manage and two assignments due in less than a week, with Tuesday being the only day I have free before I become super busy. Schoolwork keeps piling up, I have a ‘job’ I have to do, and shit is getting busy. I should clear that shit up, correct? Naturally, that would be a motivator for anyone, right? Get some stuff sorted, and then I can rest easy and plan ahead, knowing I’ve done what I needed.
But what if I didn’t do that? What if I didn’t do any of that shit, and wasted my day zoning out on my bed and just not doing anything? Wouldn’t that be grand? I think I’ll do that instead, like I do literally any fucking time I have to do any writing now. I can’t focus at all, and despite my protests to the contrary, I barely care. I was two days and 23 hours late for an assignment this week, and I only feel anger at the writing. It’s so stupid! I will be screaming in my head to just get up, open the laptop (and listen to the whirring fan as it screams for a battery replacement that still hasn’t arrived in the three months since I ordered it) and just type something. Like The Bride commanding her feet to just move a little bit after she wakes up in the hospital. Wiggle. Your. Big. Toe. The internal monologue screams into the mic until it reaches a rageful Tom Waits rattling, yet entirely impotent when the screen beckons for just a little bit more of my attention. Just sit down and do something. Get up and do something! Don’t open up YouTube, you fucking idiot. Oh my God, you’re fucking doing it again, Jesus. Stop it. Jesus, you’re watching a retrospective on RATCHET AND CLANK? Okay, five minutes, give yourself five min- YOU WATCHED THE WHOLE VIDEO? Seriously?
Isn’t this cycle just so ludricrously stupid? Just so pointless? God, what’s wrong with us? We’re paying the University and we’re not doing shit. And yet we all do this, all the time, always telling ourselves that we’ve learned our lesson and won’t make the same mistake like last time, now that we really know the consequences. Whatever. Maybe we will actually learn to not procrastinate and actually listen to our internal monologue. Let me try something. God knows I need to do something. Let me tell you about what you shouldn’t do when trying to write an article for Craccum on procrastination. Or, what you shouldn’t do when facing crunch time for the semester. Whatever works for you. Maybe you’ll see my day and learn something from it, and I think I need something to refer to the next time I waste my day doing the most inane stuff when I have like three lecturers that I’m desperately trying to not disappoint.
I’m sure you’ve all seen that image about how people should masturbate at least 21 times a month in order to maintain optimum health, but there’s no need to speedrun that.
Don’t waste even more time going to their Wikipedia page and reading the ‘Personal life’ section too, you’ll get nothing from reading about their divorces and carefully-edited-to-avoid-lawsuits suggestions and theories about their sexuality. Well, that’s a lie, it’s always fun. But not right now.
I mean, come on.
I never got the appeal of fidget spinners and stress balls and such when the ultimate object in distraction technology is already available to us at like $4.50 a strip. Maybe it’s just me, but that shit just feels so good. It’s like the sensation of mouthfeel we have for food, but for the fingers. Probably the same reason I used to play with glue in class when I was like 12 or something.
This one may only be applicable to me.
Okay, out of all the things so far, this is probably the only one you can reasonably justify. If your cat is anything like mine, it is a nice change from them desperately trying to relieve that all-consuming forehead itch by bumping into the corners of your phone constantly.
Yeah. I know that trick. So do the rest of us. You’re not slick, sit back down at your desk and don’t use that phantom poop as your desperate escape plan.