Who me?
Beth Grigg and Jeff Youngstrom have each posted on procrastination recently.
Why do we procrastinate? I know I procrastinate when the task ahead seems too enormous or intense. I procrastinate when what I should be doing seems unpleasant. When I want to be creative and frivolous. Or when I feel too tired and would rather treat myself with a little indulgence that I feel I’ve deserved after a difficult day.
Especially at this time of year, with the spring chores adding to the stack of weekend work I can feel like Fred First, needing to remind myself to eat the elephant one bite at a time. Discipline and wisdom are what I need. Yes, sometimes I even procrastinate at the computer.
We each have our secret sins with time: Beth has been indulging in Manolo’s Shoe Blog while I’ve been shopping for clothes on-line, clicking through catalog pages. She also has shared some excellent ideas on using voicemail accounts to capture and organize those thoughts that can come anywhere. I know I’ve missed a few moments of inspiration that have happened while I was driving or unable to write down the impression for future recollection. For those in the city, Beth’s list of tips on getting something done in Seattle is a valuable resource including places that keep kids happy.
Jeffy’s suggestions are also helpful. I know that if I plan time for an activity then I won’t have to borrow time from something else in order to make my goals happen. Jeffy discovered he has 41 things to do in the morning! Last night, coincidentally, ( I didn’t mention Jeffy’s post) Ted and I were talking about helping our children – and ourselves – by writing a list of what needs to happen in certain situations, such as getting up in the morning, getting ready for bed, tidying the room etc. Tonight Abigail proudly showed her dad the list she and I had made together this afternoon including calculated times to help her prepare for dance class: nine tasks requiring 46 minutes.
Peeking at Jeffy’s 43 Things, I learned that one of his goals is to sleep less. I wish I could say the same. I am struggling to sleep more. I am realizing that I can’t post as often or as much as I would like. Making priorities is difficult but necessary for me.
Many nights I read blogs or write posts but don’t publish. I know I’m becoming sporadic and intense, all or nothing. Some times I run out of time. I apologize. Reading Kevin Briody’s post helped me find a name for my habit: burst blogging. There. Not so alone or guilty. 😉
I often feel I don’t accomplish much. What did I do this past weekend? Saturday I slept instead of staying up and working at my desk. Sunday I read a book. I rested. So go the days. Yet I feel guilty as the papers pile on the desk, the emails multiply in the inbox and the aggregator bulges with blogposts.
This week we are happy Ted is home. Everyone’s schedule has slowed and we have more time and energy for each other. Happy days indeed.
Tonight we had fun as a family in a way we hadn’t in a while. We were silly and creative. We sang and danced. It is this time spent laughing and sharing in our living room together that makes life, more than the lists I can cross, as this post by Ann Althouse reminded me [via Susan Kitchens].
If you ever wish you could have more time to get something done, just remember: if you did have more time, you wouldn’t get more done. The extra time would melt away, and you’d be back feeling pressure to get it done in too little time. You might as well enjoy the free time and not moan about the things you didn’t achieve. Idle moments at the dining table, talking about this and that, are much more your real life than all those grand accomplishments, achieved and unachieved.
Michael Hanscom earlier this week linked to Tony Pierce’s How to Blog, critiquing it point by point. It’s an interesting read, both Michael’s and Tony’s ideas. In point #22, Tony advised:
when in doubt review something. theres not enough reviews on blogs. review a movie you just saw, a tv show, a cd, a kiss you just got, a restaurant, a hike you just took, anything.
Hey, I thought while reading it this afternoon. I’ll review the kiss I’ll receive tonight when Ted comes home. Can you tell I’ve been looking forward to this moment after eight days of separation? But then Ted called me to tell me his flight was cancelled. My husband has to spend another night in a hotel in Virginia. I won’t be able to kiss him until lunchtime tomorrow. I’m disappointed – we all are – and this delay gives me more time to think…
No kiss review tonight. And no kiss review tomorrow either.
I’ve changed my mind: some things are too good to share. 😉
Although my name has been mentioned (kindly) in the discussions on diversity and gender in blogs, I was reluctant to post my opinion. I hesitate because I often understand and experience both sides of an issue. I also would rather write and do what I can to promote others in an organic way than blog about blogging. However Rebecca Blood’s post has motivated me. I thought she made excellent points including the following excerpts:
Truth is, whichever weblog you first find will lead you to other, similar, weblogs (all of which link to others like them) and from that you will come to a completely erroneous conclusion about the composition of the weblog universe.
But I still wonder whether the way some women write–whatever their approach–might not create an unconscious perception that they are personal, not political, writers.
The equation might look something like this: Unlimited information + limited time + (the illusion of) a complete view = A (Self-selecting) Closed System.
What surprised me the most from Rebecca Blood’s post was the fact that she felt like an outsider.
I feel this frustration–often–myself, and over the years I’ve heard it at least as much from men as from women. I was one of the first bloggers to post regularly on political issues, but in recent years I have given up trying to take part in the larger political cross-blog discussions–I’m just not included.
The woman who wrote one of the first books on blogging, if not the book on blogging, who has been pursuing and posting for years, one of the original webloggers said: I have given up…I’m just not included.
The next day Dave Winer (I apologize but I can’t access archive links at the moment) described himself as an outsider:
First, why aren’t I an insider? I feel like I’ve earned the respect of the people who put on the conferences, and the people who participate. And the second emotion, harder to find with the first one swirling, is wait a minute, why should I accept the premise that there are two levels?
Here again is someone who has been blogging from the beginning – The Beginning – and yet does not feel included.
That same day Richard linked to Makiko Itoh’s response to Rebecca Blood and others.
Growing up, I’ve always been one of the “other”: not white, not “really” American, not even African American, not a man, certainly not Swiss, and not even “really” Japanese. Therefore, I suppose that my tolerence level for being excluded, intentionally or not, is rather high. Now, I admit that I used to care a lot more about this, and so I pushed myself to participate a lot more in the mainstream of at least the Web Design Community. Nowadays because my focus has changed, both professionally and personally, I don’t care nearly as much, and I write whatever I feel like, especially on this site. I can certainly understand the frustration of feeling excluded from something. Nevertheless, I can’t help feeling uncomfortable with the sometimes strident clamour about these issues, and for creating more and more groups and subgroups of “what’s in” as defined by a few.
Last but not least: it’s rather rare that I read something that has me nodding in agreement with every line, but this entry by Rebecca Blood was one of these. The Web, and in particular the blogosphere is sort of like New York City. You think it’s a big, indiscriminate melting pot, but it’s really a collection of small, self-absorbed little neighborhoods.
All this talk about being “in” or “out” reminded me of the social dynamics of educational systems. I remembered a conversation I had with one of my high school teachers when I was feeling lonely and rejected. This teacher told me that the popular kids were just as miserable as I was. I didn’t believe him. How could those girls who had it all be unhappy? They certainly seemed content with their cute clothes and cute guys. And I wouldn’t be miserable any more if I could trade places with them. Or so I thought at sixteen.
How I hoped to escape. Graduation would find my freedom. Yet again and again in this grown-up world outside the school system, I find myself struggling with some of the same feelings. Blogging has brought me to tears at times. So have other experiences. Exclusion hurts. Discrimination and rejection are painful at any age. As I’m older though I am appreciating more what I was told years ago.
My teacher revealed truth to me. In his simple but unbelievable statement, he told me that everyone feels like an outsider. Everyone has moments of loneliness. Everyone worries whether she fits or whether he is odd. “In” and “out” are illusions. Inside, we are all outsiders.
Richard:
It’s probably a fair statement that a large minority (possibly even a majority) of bloggers are outsiders to the subjects they discuss.
Thursday Dave Winer linked to Deborah Branscum’s comparison of High School and the Blogosphere. I had already been planning this post so I was curious to see her comments. I disagree with her specific points but I liked the quote from Doc Searls she linked:
This isn’t high school here. We don’t have to suck up to the popular kids, or try to be like them. If we want our blogs valued, if we want Google juice, we only have to try to say something worthwhile — meaning worth a link. It’s not a lot more complicated than that. Just a lot harder to understand than a popularity contest.
Actually I disagree with Doc. Maybe this isn’t high school. But it can sure feel like it. And high school didn’t have search engines and feeds to display the power of popularity.
Doc is right too. We don’t have to be like anyone else. The more we try to be like others, the less worth we have. Diversity is beauty.
Instead of looking for “in” and “out” we should try to see ourselves as we are.
The truth is we are all outsiders. Our secret fears are real and revealed. We are each random points, outliers, misfits, rejects and strangers. We are alone. We are all different. Yet we are all the same.
Joanne announced her book Song of the Azalea: Memoir of a Chinese Son by Kenneth Ore with Joann Yu now available for pre-order at Amazon.ca.
In 1917, Ore’s mother was sold to a wealthy Chinese businessman by her opium-addicted father. Rather than becoming a concubine, she was educated as a doctor and assigned to the man’s oldest son whom she married and bore three children. When the Japanese invaded Hong Kong in 1941, the mother’s courage and skill saved her family.
Rest of the synopsis and also sample chapters, the Song of the Azalea lyrics and other songs.
