Sunday, May 24, 2009


I freaking hate it because I have this urge, no need, to write all day but by the time I get home, I’m too tired/stressed/depressed/feeling sorry for myself that I hop into bed and distract my brain. When I’m at work, I’m constantly living in my head, letting it spin and swirl and take me where it needs to. I wish I could take notes while it does this – I would have a lot of material by now. But instead, I sit and stew until I go into a mind coma. It gets so bad I do stupid stuff like take my stapler to the kitchen thinking it's my coffee mug. Or I forget how to load labels in the printer I've used 34878932408976 times (approx.) It’s hard for me to focus on people, even talk to them, because it takes a lot of effort for me to pull my consciousness out of itself. I eventually do though, just in time to drive home and complain about it.

I experience the world by peering out of my brain, when I should be living it with my whole body, mind and soul. I feel like I’m just working through this hour to get to the next hour to get to the next hour. I’m waiting, biding time, wasting time… I think I’m waiting for my real life to start. The problem is that I don’t know what that real life is, where to look for it, or if it even exists for me. Isn’t the present my real life?

I find comfort in knowing that I’m not the only one experiencing this. At the same time, it’s nice to feel original. Originality is pretty much extinct; we merely copy everyone before us, but do it from our own perspective. Somehow this makes it original, when really it’s just a fresh spin on something that’s been done before. Well, I guess that is one definition of original. Whatever.

I’m tired of feeling trapped. I feel trapped at work. I feel trapped in this tiny room at my family’s home. I feel trapped within my own loneliness and doubt. Usually when I go outside, the relief is overwhelming. Sometimes I cry. Okay, a lot of times I cry. At church yesterday, the priest talked about faith. He said, “We need to move from our minds to our hearts, from understanding to believing.” That really struck a chord with me. I realized that I am so full of doubt, wariness and suspicion, that I have no room for faith and love! What happened to me?

Maybe if I held on to my faith, if I gave it reason to stick around, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so suffocated. Faith, and belief in God and all that He is, is an instant mood stablizer. Having faith implies having love, patience, acceptance and peace. I must have faith. I must.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Works well under pressure.

Instead of studying for my final in two days, I'm sitting in a study lounge listening to a woman discuss how disappointing soy cheese is. I do this every time: procrastinate until my test anxiety rises so high that I buckle down with a week's worth of coffee, and study until my eyeballs fall out. Sometimes I even have the audacity to complain that, 'Ugh... this teacher requires too much! I don't have time for this!'

Oh, but I have had time. Plenty of time, in fact. Yes, I'm working. Yes, I have hobbies and other activities that take up my time. And yes, I am quite capable of rearranging my priorities to accommodate my studies. But I don't.

Blame it on my work load, blame it on my teachers, blame it on our increasingly electronic society for providing endless amounts of distraction. Blame on anything, really, but the truth is, I'm just plain ol' procrastinating. Others, namely older people who are holding me accountable, may assume that I'm unmotivated, uninterested, lazy, undeserving, blah blah blah.

I am actually none of those. I think I'm just overwhelmed. And not just with my studies, but life in general. It has a tendency to blow by with such speed and ferocity that I have to distract myself from watching it pass me by. I procrastinate to keep myself from working towards a potentially unsuccessful end, and thus just more lost time. Besides, it's too depressing to wave at that time and those lost possibilities. 'Bye back-packing across Europe! So long novel-length manuscript! Take care kick-ass job opportunity! Don't let the door hit you on the way out!' See what I mean? Oh but wait. I'm ruminating, aren't I? And I'm making excuses, too? Well, hell. I'm fairly certain that's another form of procrastination.

Alright, alright. Fine! I get it. What's life without living in the moment and taking chances? Why let test anxiety represent not just school failure, but the ultimate fear of failing at life? Why the hell am I wasting time being such a baby, forever looking backwards and ignoring the beauty of the present? Time to buck up, Holan. Get up and get moving!


Procrastination is a huge waste of time. But yet... there is something comforting in being pressed uncomfortably against a deadline. I've gotten accustomed to working well under pressure. Call it a defense mechanism, but hey, it's gotten me this far.

Once I find some coffee, it's business time, baby.