Confessions (#15)

Another Sunday night, another blog post to write. That means reflection. Tonight's introspection revealed a series of minor regrets.  Most of which centered on two habits that I have struggled with all my life. And how they interfere with other habits I want to build, and a few I want to restore. Like reading. I want to read more books, especially works of fiction. A few days ago I took a big step that I hoped would motivate me.

I let those two fucking habits get in my way.

So here I am bitching about it.

Sigh.

(At least it inspired a post.)

(I do enjoy looking at Edward Hopper paintings. They make me feel better. Discovered this one today. Maybe not his best, but I like the colors, and the simplicity. Something about that figure, too...)

I am a procrastinator. It is a sickness, and I am tired of having it. Five months ago I ordered a new Kindle. Two nights ago I finally sat down in my bedroom recliner, turned it on, and began downloading ebooks. I even went so far as to connect it with my county library system. A sense of joy filled me: now reading required just a few clicks. Inconvenience was not an excuse.

I am a daydreamer. It is has become an obstacle, and I am frustrated with myself. After fifteen minutes of figuring out how to use the Kindle, and discovering how to download the library ebooks, I opened up a particular title I had struggled to find in physical form. Then I read the first page. Stopped. Turned off the device. And put it down. For the next thirty minutes, I sat there in my chair, staring off across the room, daydreaming. I followed that up with chores I needed done before bedtime.

 

That was Friday night. It is now Sunday evening, and I have yet to pick up the Kindle and read something. Not even the hardcover books from the library, piled high on the table in the living room, have been touched. Instead, I spent time imagining myself doing stuff, and allowed my daily tasks to pile up. That pile up became an excuse to avoid reading. So the cycle continues.

The worst part? Procrastinating and daydreaming do not only affect my reading habit. They have also interfered with my desire to write, draw, and create. They have undermined efforts to complete household projects, maintain an exercise routine, and pursue a career. Finally, they have consumed the content of my blog posts. 

(Honestly, I have far more interesting things to write about, then my daily battle with these two habits.) 

Sigh. 

Do not worry about me. I will figure it out. I know what I have to do, I just have to start doing it. It just takes me a long time to get started. Talking took some time, as did friendships-- about thirteen and forty-three years respectively. Maybe I will have this figured out by the time I reach fifty. It will give me a reason to look forward to that date (besides the satisfaction of knowing I am still alive).

And if I live to be seventy-five, I will have had twenty-five years to have finished the novels, drawings, furniture, and a few other goals bouncing around in my head.

Just need to keep my mind sharp, and body intact. 

Oh, and reign in my procrastination and imagination.

Tomorrow is a new day.

One day at a time.

It is what is it is.

(Blogging while bloated is not a wise thing to do. Like sleeping with a troubled mind, or an upset stomach. It conjures up too many dark ideas and images.)