Stimulated
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.
TOpoet 