I love you, Big Dummy…
I’m going to take a minute to love my screwed up brain. My brain that, once confronted with the notion that it has to get to work, immediately looks around my environment for something to change. My brain that says stuff like “I can’t possibly work until I:
Download a new version of eeebuntu to install on my net book. and a version of virtual box to run on my mac at work so that I can build the usb stick to put the new system on.
Completely clean and wipe my desk down.
Make the phone calls I meant to make days ago but forgot to do so because the numbers got buried in the piles of paper on my desk which I have just dislodged in order to clean said desk.
Drink third cup of coffee of the day.
Back up files on the eepc in anticipation of new system install.
Glimpse at Feedly, then fall down a browsehole tracking down links about productivity and writing.
Think about buying a book on writing tips from the Paris Review, so that I can be inspired by other writers talking about their struggles to write.
Root through my pockets and bookbag to find any flashdrives I have on my person.
Think about buying a new big flashdrive that will contain all the files I have scattered around my many other smaller flashdrives, thus giving me one thing to worry about keeping track of.
Wonder what I did with the last big flashdrive I bought that I now seem to have misplaced, luckily before I had consolidated all my other flashdrives to it.
Forget about all flashdrives and worry about how hard it is to write in google docs, as opposed to a word processing program.
Open gmail to open google docs to start a new doc for a post.
Attempt to brain storm.
Get up and get a pint of filtered water.
Check Gmail, freak out about number of unanswered mail messages, start responding.
log on to Twitter, tweet about being distracted. Curse twitter for eroding my capacity to concentrate.
Pee from all the coffee and water (actually it was my bladder, not my brain that told me to do that)
realize that I need a picture to go along with this post and haul out my camera to get one. Shoot picture and edit in photoshop.
Upload picture and glance again at Gmail, freak out again.
Talk with student about work, and be shown the link to index.org. Stand on edge of biggest browsehole ever, and slowly back away.
Read interview with Harry Matthews on the Paris Review site, because HM is a favorite writer and is also the author of “20 lines a day”, a book that has helped me write in the past.
Resolve to get back to writing twenty lines a day.
Worry about how to determine twenty lines when there is no fixed screen width on my browser.
Look up vintage portable typewriters on ebay – note that the Hermes Rocket I used to have is available.
Remind myself that I don’t have enough money to be buying portable typewriters that I will never use again.
Decide that I’ve probably done twenty lines or so and feel that I can now sit down to really write about what I meant to.
Oh brain, where would I be without you, you crazy lug.
Tags: anxiety, browsehole, daily photo, self examination, self portrait, writing
