Procrastination

Procrastination - putting off what should be done today until tomorrow, or maybe even the next day.

I don't think I have always been a procrastinator, but maybe I have. Right now, as I was looking up the dictionary definition of procrastinate, I got sidetracked by another word on the same page. You know, the one in large type at the top of the page that tells you what the last word on the page is. This word is proctodaeum, and, no, I'm not going to tell you what it means; but it's probably what you're thinking. You're going to look it up, aren't you?

A few weeks ago, I decided I needed more to do to keep me busy, or I might just sit on the couch all day reading. So I signed up for a creative writing course, bought and loaded new accounting software for the Finnish Heritage Museum, took a weaving class, borrowed lots of books from the library (along with some great BBC mystery videos), increased my knitting time and ambitions, promised I would brush the dogs more often - you get the idea. The picture on this page is Rebecca, weaving instructor, and Linda learning how to string the loom. I don't think "string" is the correct technical term, but close enough. Can you guess what I've been doing most of lately? Watching TV! After all, the Olympics are on, and they only come around once every four years, well every two if you count both the Summer and Winter Olympics.

Then there's Den. He really helps out a lot, does most of the cooking, and looks after the dogs. But he has this stereo. It is somehow attached to the computer, and to the TV, and he loves to spend time trying to make it sound incrementally better. In his experiments, he comes across all sorts of music styles and videos, and I have to listen to and watch them. Is this procrastination? I hope not, because it's really very interesting and entertaining. Just because I get nothing else done doesn't really matter, does it?

Oh, wait - I don't have any books or videos overdue at the library, and we did finish the weaving class, so, maybe I'm not such a procrastinator after all. In fact, I think I will work on my writing for my class right now. Just saying it makes me feel better.

Human Hibernation?

It seems that all I want to do this time of year is sleep. And eat, but we won't talk about that. If I ignore it, it will go away, right? Is this always being tired a way of coping with the cold and dark? Or do I suffer just a bit from SAD?

I have always liked winter, or at least I did after I learned to cross country ski (Thanks, Ginny). It is the perfect time to get outside and enjoy the trees and bushes stripped of their greenery, with the bare branches dark against the snow. And the snow - sparkling like crystals; nothing is more beautiful.

But this year, I haven't even thought about skiing, probably because I now have a tendency to break something when I fall. The snow is still beautiful, the stars seem to shine more brightly than at other times of the year, but I just don't seem to want to be outside as much. The couch next to the fireplace is very comfortable, and there are lots of books just waiting to be read. The problem is, my eyes want to close, all on their own, when I get warm and cozy in the living room. I think it has to do with hibernation.

It wouldn't surprise me if, thousands of years ago, humans were able to curl up in caves and take a long winter nap, just like bears. How else were they going to survive the freezing cold? Those skimpy animal loin cloths certainly weren't going to keep them from freezing their tushes off. And did you see the article about the Swedish snowmobilers who found a man who had been trapped in his car for two months? He was still alive! Doctors think that because his core body temperature dropped to 88 degrees F. and he kept very still, he was able to survive.

Doesn't this prove humans can hibernate? Not that I would want to try to survive an ordeal like the Swedish man, but maybe I can use this human hibernation as an excuse to take my afternoon nap every day without feeling guilty.

Time for Reading

Does anyone else have stacks of unread magazines? And shelves of unread books? Yesterday, I actually had the urge to sweep the magazines off the dresser where they are stacked and just get rid of all of them. When that thought went through my head, I panicked. I had never before wanted to get rid of any reading material, especially if I hadn't read it. Don't get me wrong; when I finish a magazine, it usually goes in the recycle pile, unless I know someone else would like to look at it.

Books, that's different. It's only lately that I've been able to pass on books to others, or to give them to the library or even the Salvation Army. Books have been my reason for being, or, at the least, very important to me. But now, when I look around the house and see the hundreds of books and dozens of magazines, I see clutter. I have been able to curb the urge to buy a lot of books because the library makes them so available. If Mentor Public Library doesn't have the book I want, chances are I can find it through Search Ohio. Only if I cannot find it there do I consider looking on the internet to buy. That way, I tell myself, I am at least not adding to the book clutter that has taken over my house.

Back to the magazines. I know the solution is easy - just don't renew them. Then I stop to think; I have to renew The Week, it's great for keeping me up to date on what's going on in the country and the world (if only I were up to date on reading it). And what about the Atlantic, Alfred Hitchcock Magazine, and a few others? Don't I legitimately need them to study what kind of stories they publish? Then there are a couple of dog magazines that I can't quit because, well, because they're about dogs. And the writing magazines, their content is about writing! I do think that I won't renew The New York Review of Books, because I have no trouble finding books to read. So there is at least one magazine gone, I think.

How Vacations have Changed

We just returned from a short, six-day vacation.   Years ago, well, not really that long ago, the success of a vacation was measured by how many books I was able to read.  How times have changed.  This last trip saw not even one book finished, and we were gone from Thursday to Tuesday.  Why the difference?  Was the book I was reading so boring that I just couldn't get through it?

Not at all. It was a very good book, interesting and not hard to read.  What has changed is me.  For one thing, my eyes are not what they should be, or used to be.  I cannot stare at a page of words for hours on end anymore; I need a break every 30 or 40 minutes.  Also, I have decided that Den needs me to talk to him to keep him alert as he drives; though, if you ask him, he will say it is not at all necessary.

Maybe the most important difference is that I have finally developed the ability to just let my mind go.   I can enjoy the scenery passing by the car's windows; or I can close my eyes, just for a few seconds.  When I do those things, it is amazing what happens in my head.  Sometimes, my thoughts go nowhere, or I may not even think coherently.  Other times, the wonderful world outside the car makes questions and observations just appear; things that I can share with Den.  But the biggest change of all is that I don't have to always be doing something, even if that something is reading.

Writing -- Is It Over?

It has been several weeks since I wrote anything and wrote for any length of time.  Yesterday I had a very scary thought:  What if I never want to write again?  I have been making excuse after excuse -- first getting the rental house ready, then knitting, working out, walking the dog, cooking, baking -- about all the things I need to do (getting ready for Christmas has moved to the top of the list) that there hasn't been any time to write.  Are all these excuses just cop outs?  Was I ever really meant to write?  Maybe someone or something is telling me that I am not a very good writer and should just quit trying.  There are a lot more fun things to do than sit at the computer for hours, trying to put words on the screen that will tell a story, and tell it well enough that other people would enjoy reading it.

I will, and have been, thinking and praying about this a lot lately.  What should I do?  I have always wanted to be a writer, ever since our Airedale, Terry, taught me to read when I was in the first grade.  Or has it been that, because I like reading, that I thought I wanted to be a writer?  I know what I should say -- I AM A WRITER!  That is probably how I should think, too, I am a writer.  I will sit  at the computer and put words on the screen and create a story that will entertain others.  I may not become rich, or even make a decent living doing this, but my stories will get published, as will my books eventually.  I will do it; and I can do it.

Was that last paragraph the answer to my prayers?  I'm not sure where else it would have come from; the words just seemed to pour out of me and onto the screen.