Time flies in the sky of Procrastination-Planet

 05 December 2021, UK

Dear future historian,

 

What was I thinking??

How on Earth did I expect to write another book by February.

Earth’s days have only 24 hours. Each hour has only 60 minutes. Each minute only 60 seconds.

I know you know that already... but I am really mumbling in panic here.

I still haven’t even written my assignment.

I spend my days in school runs and washing dishes.

Sisyphus’s story is everyone’s story.

What am I missing?

How did anyone did anything ever?

Of course, not everyone is a single mother of two autistic kids.

Not everyone is autistic themselves, with ADHD and OCD.

But, should I be proud of myself for managing the basics?

Or ashamed of myself for not managing my artistic/academic goals?

Where is the right balance in the point of interpreting my reality that will motivate me in a realistic way and not fill me with hopelessness or apathy?

‘Therapeutic apathy.’ That’s the theme of this winter.

What is the perfect recipe that will help me stop feeling sorry for myself, but also not numb me to the point of not caring for my dreams anymore?

The state of being OK to be ‘alone,’ but also welcome other people?

Is there even such a state for real?

Or, is it just something that belongs in fairy tales?

‘There’s nothing new under the Sun,’ and nothing new in my letters to you.

I’ve said these things again and again. Like a painter that has a bunch of paintings with sunflowers.

Unlike a painting... what’s even the point of repeating again and again the same dead-end frustrations?

I’m supposed to write the assignment now. That’s why I opened my laptop.

I don’t know why I’m using you to procrastinate.

It’s 1:47pm already, and I haven’t written a single word.

I just finished the dishes.

I’m cold and I’m having an unspecified panic attack.

Why am I panicking?

I’ll go eat something. Maybe that will help a bit.

Talk later.

 

11:16pm

How is that humanly possible?

I haven’t done anything in my to-do list yet.

I did watch Doctor Who with my son. I cooked. Spend some time with my daughter. Washed dishes again while listening to the ‘anatomy of melancholy’ (this book is huge.) Talked with a friend on a video call. Talked with my love on a video call.

I didn’t finish writing to you. I didn’t work on my uni assignment. I didn’t save the world. I didn’t find a way to stop panicking.

And the day is done already again.

 

11:33pm

How did I end up stopping writing this and being on twitter, then on Facebook and then at the end searching master’s degrees?

What’s wrong with me?

That’s it. I’ll try write the assignment.

 

P.S. I: Why do I always have a thousand tabs on my browser?

P.S II: That's my 100th post!

Stay safe and take care. (And don’t follow my procrastination example.)

 

I took that photo two years ago at the National Gallery. I miss London.