My girlfriend, Liz, asked me this right after I told her about the six or so tasks I planned to accomplish before I went to sleep on a random Monday at 10:30 p.m.
She followed that question up with, "Why do you have to drag everything out?"
I tried to explain that I'd never be able to relax enough to get to sleep until I at least attempted to do those very specific things, because some part of me insisted those things needed to be done at that very moment.
The reality of the situation is, I'd only get half of those tasks done that night -- and that was if I was lucky. See, I've always had a major problem with time management -- but it's more than that. I'm also unorganized. My personal space is a lot like the notebooks I'm constantly scribbling in: full of sloppy, unfinished projects with coffee stains everywhere. But it's not that either. My head is the real problem. Everything "is such a production" because I'm so focused on what's going on in my head that I have a lot of trouble doing the things that are going on outside of it -- or at least doing them correctly. Then night comes, and I realized I haven't done anything I was supposed to, so I try to cram everything into a ridiculous time frame.
Here's an example of what happens when I notice the kitchen's a mess and decide to try and straighten it up a bit:
(Man in his early 30s, to himself): Jesus, look at this place. How did it get like this? I just ran the dishwasher yesterday .... No, no, yesterday I came home and went right that open mic. Must've been the day before. (begins unloading dishes from the dishwasher and placing them off to the side) OK, if I clean up the kitchen, then I can sit down and write for a half hour before Liz gets back, and we can catch up on our shows. We've got Parenthood and Modern and ... When does Mad Men start up again? This waiting a year between seasons bullsh$t is really starting to get old. What was that thing I wanted to write about? ... Probably put it in my notes ... (walks to the counter, picks up his phone) There it is ... 'Bitch face/People act their face' ... what the f#ck does that mean? (furrows his brow and rubs his chin) ... Oh yeah, right. That woman from the Right Aide became a bitch because she was born with such a bitchy looking face. Even if she tried to be a nice person she'd fail because of that severe face ... I don't know, could work I guess. Seemed a lot funnier when I was drunk ... Oh, I love this song. I used to know how to play this sh$t, too. (walks to the living room, picks up guitar; 19 minutes go by, and he returns to the kitchen) ...
|A strange, simple man.|
OK, what time is it here? 8:12! How the hell did that happen? It was just 6:30 a couple of minutes ago. I can't ever seem to get a handle on this time thing ...There's just never enough time. Doesn't matter how much you get done, there's still so much left to do. And what's the point of being busy all the time? It's so stupid. All we're doing is trying to distract ourselves and keep our minds off the fact we're going to die some day ... All of us are going to die ... I really should try meditating more. That would probably be good for me ... But it's kind of weird. If it's weird for me, it's gotta be weird for Liz, right? Yeah, that's probably why I don't do it more ... I'm more afraid of her walking in on me mediating than of her walking in on me masturbating (laughs to himself) ... That's pretty funny. I should do something with that ... (picks an unfamiliar object out of the dishwasher) What the hell is this? Where does it even go? ... Where does all this sh%6 come from? We have so much sh$t that we don't even need in here than ... I'm getting a motorcycle. I don't care. I'm not really that bad of a driver, and motorcycles are different ... you have to pay attention. you have to focus. And it's amazing. I'm too old to do drugs, but I need something ... I'm getting a motorcycle. That's it; it's settled. I'll take those classes the DMV has in the Spring, then I'll start looking for bikes then ... Do I say something about it or just show up with a motorcycle one day? ... There it is (walks over to the counter and picks up an iron) ... There's no way this has just been sitting here all day. I looked everywhere for this thing. It doesn't belong here. That's probably why I couldn't find it. Alright, I gotta get this sh$t done ... I need to get a motorcycle. She's not gonna like it, but it's gotta happen ... God I'm starving. I really need to eat something (walks over to the refrigerator).
35 Minutes Later ...
(Young woman enters the house, put her stuff down, walks over to the fridge and opens it): Why is the iron in the refrigerator?
(Man): I'm getting a motorcycle!