Procrastination

I’m sitting at my desk, fingers poised for inspired action on the keyboard, reflecting on the fact that I have to write a research paper. we’ve been researching it all semester for my seminar, sharing our newfound knowledge with our classmates every week. Funny, how my topic changed enough last week to render all my previous knowledge futile, while the new books i have requested have yet to arrive. My mind drifts while listening to bewitched by ella fitzgerald play crackle from my straining laptop speakers. i lament their inability to fully handle the range of this beautiful song, with a firm dammit aloud.

5 minutes of writing. frustration kicks in and i pound at the keyboard rather violently.

whoops. there goes my water all over the desk. somehow, i don’t mind and place a paper bag over it and continue listening, thinking that perhaps in fifteen years you’ll be playing this same song on a saturday morning while cooking a late breakfast, or mopping the floors, or watering the plants, or painting, or drinking tea on the back porch. Then suddenly i’m disgusted by this dream of yuppiness, I cringe, ‘my bad.’ well, that’s how my family operates, on Saturday mornings, when I still rose in the mornings rather than the afternoons. I’d wake to some obscure jazz, my tirelessly classy parents were playing while they were doing any number of those activities i had previously mentioned. quaint, i think. is there something inherently wrong wanting to live like this? Perhaps, i’ve been poisoned by white middle class angst and wish for something more when really that lifestyle was only a recent phenomenon for our family. no generations upon generations of mothers and fathers rising on saturday mornings to tend the garden, wash the cars, returning from the farmer’s market with fresh fruit, folding clean laundry.

the house really is a fully functioning self contained institution, i’ll think about that later but, i should really get back to this paper.

opening up the fancy solitaire game, freecell i continue on w/ my thoughts instead of writing.

not a tradition, these practices, yet it has become normalized. perceived as the American Saturday. now, i am fully aware that the vast majority of people in this country do not live in such comfort. Perhaps, single parents return from their graveyard shifts at the hospital to sleep in while the kids get up and play in the neighborhood, or the oldest child dresses the other siblings and has them ride the bus to go to saturday morning bible study, or they wake up to endless arguing or an empty house? depressing, i’m not going to think about that. too onerous for this task at hand: MY RESEARCH PAPER.

oh God, did half an hour really elapse already?

i am cursed. my eyes burn from the past week’s sleep deprivation. i wish i had slept in my own bed last night rather than this foul couch in this rando lounge, that of course, has been rumoured to be witness to plenty of love-making. i wonder how much it has seen. was any of it not a drunken hookup? are people incapable of reaching such profound depths of spiritual, emotional, and physical connection with other beings? i’d like to think we are capable, but for more emphasis – i shall say it again, i would like to think so. i think women are capable, but i’m not so sure our heterosexual companions are. the male species have wandering eyes.

enough of my man hating, that was already too much and incredibly draining. now, what of this andrea mantegna – he’s italian, right? oh God – i have a ton of work ahead of me, more research needs to be done.

45 minutes reading my google homepage news links front pages. can i get paid to just read? i could do that. Hmm, Germany’s annual growth is projected to exceed that of the U.S. this year at 3.4%. The dollar is losing ground against the euro. What does that mean for the US economy? Who is going to carry the burden of adjustment? According to Spiegel online and outlook india it should be pretty evenly distributed, hopefully not causing a huge disruption to the global economy. ahhhh, money. not always green like envy these days. poor counterfeiters, such a tough occupation you have chosen, at least it cannot be associated with avarice lacking that typical symbolic color similarity these days.

what am i doing?!

15 minutes of image perusal of andrea mantegna’s Adoration of the Magi.

Who is Getty images? What are they? Oh i see, a photography agency. I wonder what other photography agencies are out there? i see getty images all the time and everywhere. oh, well of course, there’s my favourite agency – magnum. i haven’t checked that website in a good long while. let’s see what the new books are, any new exhibitions going to be opening at home during the break, new photographers join the agency, have the internship applications been posted yet? Vu agency. i have never heard of them, let’s check them out. gosh, i really need a good camera. hasselblad – new cameras? still cost as much as a car? oh, digital backs $15,000. awesome. incredibly affordable. yet, i see parents at the homecoming game walking around with cameras of a similar financial stature being used every so casually for football games! ridiculous. most likely they do not even know how to use the damn camera while the little people who actually are trained with the skills to maximize the enormous utility of the camera are counting their nickles and dimes to buy a tea from the vending machine to write this research paper.

oh right. the research paper i should go back to that.

10 minutes of writing only to end in a long session of holding the delete button down. what’s another word for cause that’s not foment?

turns out the OED online doesn’t have a thesaurus. hmm. . .

5 minutes of re-writing.

flexing my wrist, i notice my hand is dry. digging through my bag for a good 5 minutes i realize there is no lotion. i never carry lotion with me, unless i’m in the sculpture studio or the darkroom. what makes me think that i’ll have lotion, this time versus other times, while engaged in this rather intense paper writing session?!

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