Time Mismanagement

James Proclaims (4)

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Sometimes I wonder if I am the personification of procrastination. If I were to look up the definition for procrastination in a dictionary, I would genuinely not be surprised to see my own face grinning back at me.

If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I would probably win the gold medal. If I ever got around to competing of course. Which I wouldn’t because I’d be too busy re-organising my sock drawer. I’m just that good.

If it were possible to make a living from procrastinating, I’d certainly consider getting around to one day applying for a role doing just that. I’d be a ‘pro’ crastinator.

Today (or rather yesterday, for that is when I wrote this) is absolutely a case in point. I have spent the last year or so avoiding writing the dissertation which will finally see me complete a MA course, which I have been doing for longer than is remotely reasonable. Because I’ve been doing it part time, I’ve been able to take my time, but I actually completed most of the modules several years ago and have been delaying the dissertation for as long as I could. Mostly because I didn’t want to do it.

But I couldn’t put it off forever and so, a year ago, I committed to starting it.

And then I ignored it.

Until it was really too late to complete it by the deadline.

I did have some mitigating circumstances – not least the arrival of my beloved (but very distracting) daughter.

There were other things too. Nothing massively interesting, but quite a few things happened last year to create a perfect storm, which prevented me from being able to give the dissertation the time it deserved.

The university agreed that I had a quite a few extenuating circumstances going against me and so they granted me an extension.

Which was nice of them.

But really, since December, I’ve had plenty of time to look at it.

And I haven’t.

And it’s getting a bit embarrassing now.

Thanks to the extension I still have ample time left to get it done, but my lack of progress is starting to get more than a little worrying.

My daughter remains the primary distraction. She’s genuinely adorable, but she’s quite loud, which can make focussing on academic literature quite difficult. Academic literature is rarely a compelling read and I can think of lots of things I’d rather be doing than ploughing my way through reams of journal articles on a subject I’m only claiming to care about for the purposes of getting a qualification that might help my career (but in all honesty might not). In contrast spending time with my offspring currently ranks as my absolute favourite thing in the world to do. It would take a lot of willpower to sit in my makeshift home office (aka the spare room) and ignore her if I couldn’t hear her, but if’s she awake, she’s generally making some kind of noise.

Mrs Proclaims, sympathetic to my plight, did take her out today.

Which left the house nice and quiet and gave me the time and space I needed to finally make a start on pulling some of my incoherent thoughts and ideas together and maybe write the few thousand words that I need to convince my supervisor that I might actually pull this off (he’s been remarkably patient thus far but I think he’s pretty much given up on me).

Instead I did lots of other things.

None of which needed to be done.

One of them was writing this.

The Horror Of Horology

James Proclaims (4)

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The clocks went forward yesterday. The downside of this is that we all have to get up an hour earlier. The upside is that it is now, horologically speaking, British Summer Time.

Actually, by anyone’s definition, British Summer Time is not really much of an upside. No-one comes to Britain for the weather.

Although the weather was quite nice today.

The snow and ice of recent weeks seems to have dissipated for the time being, although a third strike by the Beast from the East is apparently imminent and due to arrive in time for the Easter weekend.

Which will be nice. Who doesn’t dream of a White Easter?

Just like the ones I used to know.

It seems hard to believe that snow is on the way though, because today was positively balmy.

Not, really summer weather though. More like spring weather.

Because it is spring and not summer. British Summer Time doesn’t actually mean that it is summer. Much like when we go back to Greenwich Meantime, it doesn’t follow that we’ll all be mean to each other. Although we might be, because it’ll be colder and darker and generally a bit rubbish, all of which might engender a slightly meaner attitude towards the rest of humanity. Although GMT does bring a later start to the day, which mitigates the horror of winter a little.

But for now let us enjoy the fact that the days are getting a little longer and the weather is occasionally clement.

I’m still struggling with the getting up earlier though.

 

Less Is More. More Or Less.

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Sometimes, when I can’t think of anything to write about, I write about the fact that I can’t think of anything to write about. It’s a little self-contradictory but it solves a problem.

Equally, when I don’t really have time to write anything, I occasionally write about the fact that I haven’t got time to write anything, even though by writing about a lack of time to write anything, I am proving that I did have time to write something. Albeit something pointless.

The other solution would be to write nothing.

Which may be preferable in the short term but writing nothing on one occasion often leads to a longer-term scenario in which I write nothing for weeks on end.

Which is bad for me.

It may be less bad for you.

But this blog is an entirely self-indulgent affair, for the most part, so ‘bad-for-me’ is undesirable.

Then again, at the moment, I really am quite busy and being busy seems like a state of affairs which is likely to continue indefinitely.

Which means this blog is likely to take a ‘back seat’ unless I can think of a solution.

And one solution is to write shorter posts.

About not very much.

As opposed to long posts about not very much, which is my usual modus operandi.

So that’s probably what I’m going to do for a while.

Write short posts about not very much.

Like this one.

But maybe I’ll aim to make them better than this one.

Although they probably won’t be much better than this if I’m honest.

There’s Always A Bright Side

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It’s already five past eight
I’m running rather late
I overslept this morning
Ignored alarm clock’s warning

Had no time to eat my toast
Now coffee is the most
I’ll consume before my break
So I’ll be hungry but awake

And the traffic will be slow
But I’ll just go with the flow
There’s no point in getting stressed
(Did I remember to get dressed?)

It’s not been the best of starts
But I’ll try not to lose heart
If I can just survive the day
Then there’s always Beaujolais

T Is For Time

James Proclaims (4)

cooltext178900885104338Time.

I never seem to have any to do the things I want to.

I’m always busy doing other stuff.

Like work.

Or ironing shirts.

Shirts I wear to work.

Or sitting in traffic.

On my way to and from work.

I think what I’m saying is that work gets in the way of me having time to do other stuff.

But today is Saturday and I don’t have to work.

I could have spent today doing any one of a multitude of things that would make my life better.

I could have started that novel I claim I’m going to write.

I could have studied those languages I claim I’m going to master.

I could have gone to the gym and trained to become the elite specimen I know I’m never actually going to be.

Instead I spent the last two and a bit hours watching Star Wars.

Time well spent.

 

 

 

A Bibliophile Bemoans Being Busy

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I often claim I like to read
When I have time to kill
A novel is the ideal thing
If I have hours to fill

I like all kinds of fiction
Few genres make me frown
I’m really not too fussy
I’ll even read Dan Brown Continue reading A Bibliophile Bemoans Being Busy

Alice Accepts Her Fate

“You’ve got to live life to the full,” Pete declared, through mouthfuls of chicken and leek pie, “you could get hit by a bus tomorrow and kablam! Then it’s all over before you even realise what’s happened!”

Alice knew her brother meant well, though he could have chosen a better example to support his argument. The village of Nettleton hadn’t had a bus service in over twenty years, so the odds of being hit by one seemed fairly minimal. Heavy-duty agricultural vehicles were another matter entirely… Continue reading Alice Accepts Her Fate