Easily Distracted
Yup, that's me. Easily distracted. Yup. Sure enough. What's that over there? Something shiny! I should go see what it is! Wait, but I could be cleaning the bathroom/putting down storm windows/grocery shopping/grading grading grading/reading for class/grading/writing an abstract... You get the point, I'm sure.
It is the time of the semester (hell, it's PAST time) for me to buckle down and do some work. All the time. To clear the plate well in advance of the next boatload of tasks coming in. As in, finish this set of papers because the next set comes in tomorrow. As in, if you want to write that abstract, you should spend the weekend reading and grading.
I'm on a new kick: I'm trying to spend less time punishing myself. I know, I know, it's crazy. I could probably use some punishment. And if any of you know a dominatrix that works on the cheap, send her name my way. Until then, I've come to the conclusion that refusing to let myself do anything over the weekend until I do work (and I do mean anything: go to the gym, read for pleasure, shower) just results in a weekend of sitting around the house avoiding work, but living under its shadow. I woke up on Friday and spent the the morning having a increasingly heated and histrionic argument with one of my colleagues. In my head, of course. But there was no way that I was going to do work at that point. In keeping with the "no punishment" rule, I went to Target. On Saturday, when it still felt like the entire weekend was in front of me, I went to the gym and then out for a bento box with Senor Fluff. And then it was the run-up to Torchwood, for God's sake! On Sunday, I had that "oh good Christ, I've wasted the entire weekend" feeling, and made a decision: if I ever want to be a real academic, I've got to spend time doing research. So I went to the grocery store (huh), and then spent the rest of the evening reading a book, grading two grossly-overdue student presentations, and looking at the collection of primary texts that I'm working with.
Oh, and I made this for dinner. And it was heavenly.
I don't know what any of this means. Part of my brain despairs; is it the case that I'm simply incapable of doing work? That I'm turning into one of those professors that never returns student works AND never researches (and the million dollar question: what do those people do with all of their time?!!)? Am I doomed to that fate? Another part of me thinks that I'm in some sort of gestative state---something's working its way to the surface and this is all a part of the process.
Either way, I've set myself up yet another week of anxious and exhausting teaching/grading/writing. But at least this time, I left the house.
It is the time of the semester (hell, it's PAST time) for me to buckle down and do some work. All the time. To clear the plate well in advance of the next boatload of tasks coming in. As in, finish this set of papers because the next set comes in tomorrow. As in, if you want to write that abstract, you should spend the weekend reading and grading.
I'm on a new kick: I'm trying to spend less time punishing myself. I know, I know, it's crazy. I could probably use some punishment. And if any of you know a dominatrix that works on the cheap, send her name my way. Until then, I've come to the conclusion that refusing to let myself do anything over the weekend until I do work (and I do mean anything: go to the gym, read for pleasure, shower) just results in a weekend of sitting around the house avoiding work, but living under its shadow. I woke up on Friday and spent the the morning having a increasingly heated and histrionic argument with one of my colleagues. In my head, of course. But there was no way that I was going to do work at that point. In keeping with the "no punishment" rule, I went to Target. On Saturday, when it still felt like the entire weekend was in front of me, I went to the gym and then out for a bento box with Senor Fluff. And then it was the run-up to Torchwood, for God's sake! On Sunday, I had that "oh good Christ, I've wasted the entire weekend" feeling, and made a decision: if I ever want to be a real academic, I've got to spend time doing research. So I went to the grocery store (huh), and then spent the rest of the evening reading a book, grading two grossly-overdue student presentations, and looking at the collection of primary texts that I'm working with.
Oh, and I made this for dinner. And it was heavenly.
I don't know what any of this means. Part of my brain despairs; is it the case that I'm simply incapable of doing work? That I'm turning into one of those professors that never returns student works AND never researches (and the million dollar question: what do those people do with all of their time?!!)? Am I doomed to that fate? Another part of me thinks that I'm in some sort of gestative state---something's working its way to the surface and this is all a part of the process.
Either way, I've set myself up yet another week of anxious and exhausting teaching/grading/writing. But at least this time, I left the house.
Labels: random blah
posted by kfluff at 8:17 AM
1 Comments:
Gah. We are the same. La meme. I just frittered away HOURS tonight doing nothing, staring at my grading folder. Although leaving the house is a step up on me.
And really when we get right down to it, watching Gossip Girl is not a waste of anyone's time.
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