why am I multi-tasking

why do I feel non-productive

when I do one thing at a time

walking while listening

to an podcast book music

so I don’t really hear

the world around me

so I’m not wasting time

squeezing in as much as possible


doing laundry cooking checking email

actions interlace in the same time period

to make the most of every moment

watching tv

doing a crossword puzzle 

at the same time

finding the right music

to write to

because writing in silence

isn’t fulfilling


even when I sleep

my brain is working away

taking a crap

reading a book at the same time

riding the subway

with an ebook

to make the time flow faster

checking phone texts

while waiting in line


building walls

between me & the world

between me & my vision

there can’t be a moment of nothing

because nothing

means useless


as long as I am stimulated

I have a sense of self

as long as I am doing

I have purpose

I am not a productive member of society – I don’t smoke, I don’t drive, I don’t drink alcohol is any form  thus I’m not paying the taxes that cigarettes, gas, booze funnel into the government coffers. My GST gets partially rebated. I invariably get a tax rebate too, so I guess my purpose isn’t to keep the wheels of commerce moving.

When I tell people I’m a writer they usually want to know if that pays the rent – honey, I tell them, very few writers make enough money to pay the rent – they are lucky if they can afford high speed wifi (& only because the cost of that is a tax deduction). They want to define by my financial status, not by what I do – it’s not how well was your last book reviewed – it’s how much did it make. Writing success = money.

Similar to last week’s piece this is also about the way time gets frittered by so many things that pull or dilute my focus so that I’m really not in the moment or using that distraction as an excuse not to focus at all. Let’s face it there’s always something to be done other than sitting down to write.

It is easy to let busy-ness feel like productivity. We romanticize painter who exiles themselves to a distant island, or the writer in an isolated cabin in the wilderness who has sacrificed all to be rid of distractions. Often they end up writing about being isolated in a cabin or painting the locals in various stages of undress – they find a new set of distractions. Damn! some car alarm has gone off, again – I don’t know whose car but I just can’t focus on this blog. 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee – sweet,eh? 

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