Slack
Slack. noun. Origin: Latin. def 1: part of something that hangs loose, without strain. def 2: something of which I've been cutting myself too much. def 3: a paticularly hideous word for pants, associated largely with polyester stretch, which I avoid at all costs.
Slacker. noun. Origin: Southern California/Valley. Def 1: my current identity, particularly in the face of the things that I should be doing/have done. Related words: loser, lazer, irresponsible...
Somewhere post-April (and after the article/conference paper/grading bonanza blowout), I lost my will to care about deadlines. I used to feel terrible about these kinds of things, and the idea that I would be late, and thus be revealed to others as someone who is irresponsible and doesn't do things would be all of the motivation I needed to get stuff done. I'd wake up in the middle of the night worried about deadlines, about getting things to people, about all of the things that I hadn't accomplished.
I think April broke me.
It's the 13th of June (hello, Friday the 13th! Welcome to M. Night Shyamalan's world!). I have an article due for a collection in 17 days, and I just started the research for it yesterday. [In my defense, I laid out a preliminary outline that makes use of a number of sources I've been using in papers and my last article, so I'm not starting from scratch. Still. Procrastinate much?]
Meanwhile, I have yet to order books for two of my fall classes. The bookstore guy, who is the chillest human ever, is going to have my head. I'm going to have to turn in hard copies of the order forms with a dime bag stapled to each of them. At 5 this morning, I was worried about this. Right now? I'm realizing that it's noon on Friday, so I might as well plan on getting it to him on Monday---hell, he's not around on the weekend!
I can't manage to work up enough mojo to get worried that I'm not worried enough: I'm so meta, it hurts! I think I have to assume that this is the natural consequence of doing too much for too long. Last year at this time, I was attending a summer workshop in the Midwest after having taught a summer class after having attended a tortuous graduation ceremony aftern having taught new courses for the full year. Next week will mark my triumphant return home, and the anticipation of the nasty, itchy skin condition that lasted for a month. Basically, it boils down to this: I'm tired, bitches. In fact, if I could incite myself to move, I'd channel the queen of tired, Lily von Schtupp, linked here for your viewing pleasure.
I'm off to locate my motivation. If you see it anywhere, send it packing, will you? I don't want to have to put its picture on the back of a milk carton.
Slacker. noun. Origin: Southern California/Valley. Def 1: my current identity, particularly in the face of the things that I should be doing/have done. Related words: loser, lazer, irresponsible...
Somewhere post-April (and after the article/conference paper/grading bonanza blowout), I lost my will to care about deadlines. I used to feel terrible about these kinds of things, and the idea that I would be late, and thus be revealed to others as someone who is irresponsible and doesn't do things would be all of the motivation I needed to get stuff done. I'd wake up in the middle of the night worried about deadlines, about getting things to people, about all of the things that I hadn't accomplished.
I think April broke me.
It's the 13th of June (hello, Friday the 13th! Welcome to M. Night Shyamalan's world!). I have an article due for a collection in 17 days, and I just started the research for it yesterday. [In my defense, I laid out a preliminary outline that makes use of a number of sources I've been using in papers and my last article, so I'm not starting from scratch. Still. Procrastinate much?]
Meanwhile, I have yet to order books for two of my fall classes. The bookstore guy, who is the chillest human ever, is going to have my head. I'm going to have to turn in hard copies of the order forms with a dime bag stapled to each of them. At 5 this morning, I was worried about this. Right now? I'm realizing that it's noon on Friday, so I might as well plan on getting it to him on Monday---hell, he's not around on the weekend!
I can't manage to work up enough mojo to get worried that I'm not worried enough: I'm so meta, it hurts! I think I have to assume that this is the natural consequence of doing too much for too long. Last year at this time, I was attending a summer workshop in the Midwest after having taught a summer class after having attended a tortuous graduation ceremony aftern having taught new courses for the full year. Next week will mark my triumphant return home, and the anticipation of the nasty, itchy skin condition that lasted for a month. Basically, it boils down to this: I'm tired, bitches. In fact, if I could incite myself to move, I'd channel the queen of tired, Lily von Schtupp, linked here for your viewing pleasure.
I'm off to locate my motivation. If you see it anywhere, send it packing, will you? I don't want to have to put its picture on the back of a milk carton.
posted by kfluff at 11:41 AM
2 Comments:
Hmm, ordering fall books before August? Concept. I should look into this.
freaking motiovation. the summer always kidnaps mine.
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