procrastination is a Fine Art!

Guys I have a problem!

I have no patience. Or rather, I have plenty of patience most of the time, but at the times when I’m suddenly cognizant of really really needing to be patient, I don’t have it. I get all antsy and I jump around and fidget and when I’m supposed to be reading like 600 pages of sociology or writing a term paper, I instead write massive amounts of slightly comprehensible babbling about various (slightly) philosophical musings! I have 5 hour convos w/friends and I think things are ready to settle for a week (so I can take finals) and then … sneak sneak sneak… **WHAM!!!** a barrage of thoughts and confusion just WAITING to be processed smack me upside the head and I sort of smile and reply, “Well, if you insist.” Then I laugh at the absurdity of existence and pretend that my homework will finish itself as long as I have enough passion.
Next thing I know it’s 4AM and although I’ve been doing NOTHING but ‘working’ for the past 18 hours, I’ve ‘accomplished’ per se NOTHING, although I may have designed a proof for the latest wonder of my small universe.
Generally, I love this state of affairs. It’s intoxicating and addicting, like climbing really tall white pines or jumping face first into snow banks. BUT the *problem* comes when I can’t surround myself with enough people who want to discuss intense things at random hours when we ‘should’ be doing other ‘more important’ things. (Because the argument that understanding our universes is THE most important thing sort of loses flavor when it’s all you do). With only myself to converse with and about, I GO CRAAAAAZY! This thanksgiving break I (purposefully) spent 72 hours with only 1, 2, or perhaps 3 conversations (that would be with other people). The rest of the time I spent more or less in the same room, walking to the kitchen, or playing piano. Guess what happened??!? I read 377 pages exactly and spent the rest of time losing touch with reality, or transcending myself, or something, in some sort of illusory out of body dream world. Inside my own head the speed or intensity at which I was mulling and processing was of no effect! And thus it was a little higher than I think I can even be conscious of right now.

Before I get too far, let me say that I made a concerted effort (unusually concerted for me) this term, from almost its very beginning, to live internally. By which I mean, to not deal with any subject or experience or relationship or thought, without living the time and energy to allow and encourage it to become part of the essence of my being. Some might say, to internalize it. Obviously this isn’t the kind of thing one can sit down and command to happen, so I’m sure there were a fair share of things that slipped by. But I consciously cut down on my activities, tried to penetrate the surface even more in my interactions, and focused on learning to feel, to merge intellect and emotion. At this point I’m speculating that in order to do that for a variety of things, it meant I started to analyze, well, everything, even more than usual. Because in order to internalize something you have to understand where it’s coming from, how it was formed, where it’s going, etc. This generally requires a lot of ‘unpacking’ as I like to say, and tends to upset large aspects of our lives that we once took for granted. Living internally also requires that my typical external-processing (talking through w/friends etc.) be coupled with a different kind of processing, one that is better described in colors and feelings than in words or sentences, I think. Emotionally, it’s been intense and definitely out of control (although I don’t mind, I tend to dislike being in control).

Well, whatever it was I was doing this past weekend, whirling smoothly and rapidly in and out of I know not what, the transition back to my habitual environment (class, work, friends, activities) has been messy. I find myself very wrapped up in my own expectations for the world, which include every person questioning herself and her frameworks and her very reason for existing, rather endlessly and at an (extraordinarily?) fast rate. At Dartmouth we call this “intensity.” I was hoping that some self/emotional processing time would allow me to better dwell in the realities of folks who, for a variety of legitimate reasons, do not prefer the level of intensity that I seem privy to. Instead the opposite happened! I became LESS patient!
And now when I swore to finish the same book I started exactly 5 days ago at this time (then vowing to finish it before bed), I have intellectualized (if you can call it that) away another 25 minutes of my time and 3 minutes of yours. I’m against commodification of time and existence. But I need patience!

Also I’m laughing hard right now, which is good I think. :-D You should laugh too, it’s so healthy!
hahahahahahahahahaha