A Brief Interlude (#17)

I did it! There was a moment when I considered putting it off. But, I pushed through the voice telling me to surrender. And now to do my chores.

(A Street in Venice by John Singer Sargent)

In about fifty minutes, I am going to start dinner. When everyone has been fed, I will drag three loads of laundry to my room, and start folding. After those two chores are completed, I am hoping to read a book. Perhaps watch a movie. Maybe do some drawing. Alright, that last one is not happening. The other two, however, are possibilities. 

What I do not want to be doing, on a late Sunday night, after I accomplish my tasks, is sit down and blog. Especially when it is not about any one of the more interesting topics I had contemplated throughout the prior week. Since I never bothered to outline or summarize those ideas, I have nothing to work with, but wisps of memories. Worse, the strength of those potential writings relied on a bit of research, some extra work to prop up my points. And if I had spent these past days constructing a true draft, Sunday could be spent polishing it up. Something I never do. 

(Now there are thirty minutes left before I prep dinner.)

I could just give up, pick some arbitrary future date to start over, and hope by then that I figure out this procrastination problem. Just let whatever I have assembled so far snap apart.  Allow those broken pieces to litter yet another abandoned field of my unconscious. I survived high school and college with this strategy. Grades never mattered to me. Apparently, neither did the expectations of my teachers and peers. Perhaps you think ignoring the hopes, insights, and respect others have for you is a virtue. I can tell you, after breaking enough connections with people, that the expectations people have for you can be a healthy thing. Do not let procrastination convince you otherwise.

On some level, the expectations we have for ourselves are formed from what others expect from us. If I constantly toss aside what those whom I respect think of me, I am left with shards of my essence. In a way, the considerations of good people in my life, is the cement holding together my being. 

Or, am I the glue, my mentors and friends are the fragments of glass, and the arrangement is mine to decide?

Does this metaphor even work?

Damn you, my overly-analytical mind and procrastinating habit! If I started this a week early, I would not be developing these doubts.

Sigh.

(Thirteen minutes until I assemble the ingredients for dinner.) 

Well, I am not convinced about the whole expectations, shards of existence, my friends are an adhesive babble I outlined above. However, I am certain that just giving up, waiting for a better time to start from scratch, is a terrible idea. "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results." My past indifference towards the expectations of those close to me damaged my own expectations for myself. I am feeling the repercussions over twenty years later. Time to break that cycle.

(Five minutes until I start dinner.)

And so, tonight, I decided to blog. 

(One minute past 5 pm. Time to get moving.)