I gave up with the “cast of characters” post. I don’t want no cast o’ characters. How lame and “meta” was that? And why was it necessary for me to name everyone after saints? Two words: it wasn’t.
One of the reasons why I haven’t blogged recently is that I’ve been busy at work—and obsessing over politics, a disease if you ask me. But another reason is that I can’t commit to anything these days. A good idea one day seems stupid the next. I want coherence but I can’t seem to provide it. Just as I want to build a life, a formidable self, but persist in being a dilettante, a weaver of plans with no execution.
I want to learn calculus. I want to learn logic. I want to learn formal linguistics. I want to learn computer science. I want to learn biology. I want to read this book, and this one, and this, but alas! The time goes, and I do terribly little beyond my job. I want to leave and I want to stay. I want to be a specialist and I want to be wise in all things.
I don’t want to do the best I can so much as I want to do better than everyone else. There’s a reason why I went to a schmancy-pants college; competitiveness is in my nature. The feeling, not entirely misplaced, that I am being trounced “at life” by my peers is deeply demoralizing.
I can’t even keep a blog. Can I repeat that, for emphasis? I CAN’T EVEN KEEP A BLOG. Even silly fourteen-year-olds can keep blogs. My mind is in disarray. My blog’s title fits, I suppose. Undersecretary of disarray. I wasn’t even “together” enough to be the goddamn Secretary.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, etc.
I would say, "next time, I will write about politics and the elections," but if I did, you would be unwise to believe me.
3 comments:
Enough of this faltering diffidence, Eliot! I mean Penitent.
There is a genius in your dalliance. Carry forth...
I sympathize.
After a good decade of procrastination, I've finally begun to accept that habit and organization is far better than self-flagellation for the sin of faineance.
For years I insisted on trying to write at night. Of course, I would come home tired and much of the time just lay about, working myself into a bad mood for not doing anything.
So now I'm waking up a few minutes earlier every morning and trying to crank out 300 words. If I write more, great, but if I hit 300 I have accomplished one goal for the day--by 7 a.m.--and the rest of the day is free. It's been a nice change.
Faineance, eh? The Savant lives!
I think I know how important organization is. I just can't make myself organized for the life of me. I am impressed that you can get anything done by 7am, though--when I am awake by 7am it is usually because I've yet to go to sleep. Maybe that's my problem.
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