Ah, Procrastination

Ah, procrastination, my old friend.
I've come to waste time with you again.
Before the glow of a computer screen
I surf the backwaters of Facebook memes.
But the To Do list
That is rolling
Through my brain
Won't contain
It's impatience
With my task avoidance.

There are SO many things I SHOULD be doing right now.  Three more little activities to blog about for work, and I'll be done with that training program.  Just can't stick with it.  One last load of clothes to tumble in the dryer and then fold,  but I'm avoiding them.  Maybe seven birthday cards for fellow staffers to make, and one for family, and I'm puttin' it off again.
Just got a bad case of the Lazies these days.  Don't know why.  Not bummed out about anything really, not feeling ill or achy, just  "meh" about a lot of things.

Part of the procrastination is useful, it makes me think about things a bit more before I set off to do them.  My subconscious chews on things and comes up with new ideas when I'm not looking.
I have little chores like copying my last voice lesson off the digital recorder and onto the computer, and charging the recorder, and finding a copy of the piece Karen wants me to look at, and there are books I should be reading, but, boy, if I can just sit here and veg out.  I will.  I read fan fiction.  (Yes, a dirty little secret of fandom, some fans write, and others read.  Some of it is really good, some is abysmal. )  That is my mental chewing gum.  For my Mom, it was romance novels that she called "chewing gum for the brain."  For me, it's fanfics.
There is also Facebook and Twitter.  Facebook for more pictures, funny stories, catching up with family.  Twitter for news of the shows, stars, writers, etc. and some very special friends that I keep up with.

There are some ongoing annoyances as well.  The repair of the slow leak in the water line that continues (and costs us money both on water and on the sewer rate adjustment for the coming year) is still in limbo waiting to hear back about whether the bid from the plumber was accepted, and which plumber will do the work.  Also ongoing annoyance about getting an appointment for a check up at the clinic. Have to call them, NO appointments showing on the online calendar.

On other topics, I had the opportunity (or should I say I had no choice) to sing the descant on the anthem in church today all by myself.  The other first soprano was absent.  If I may say so, I think I did a pretty good job.  May have gone a little under on the last verse, but overall, not bad.  I don't know why, but singing at church by myself makes me a LOT more nervous than singing all by myself at recital does.  Maybe because most of my fellow choristers are better singers than I , and I feel self- conscious.  At recital, I'm usually one of the more advanced students.

This past week at work, I had to move out of the "shared cubicle" that all of us part-timers use, and back to a work area built in near the door into the department.  One advantage, better display space for the Perlman pictures!  Main disadvantages:  Less actual work surface space, less storage, and MORE TRAFFIC!  (And lookie loos because people leave the door open into the work area as they come and go with carts.) 
Here are a couple of pictures of the "Perlman Gallery" or the "Perlman Shrine" , depending on whom you ask:

 This wall can be seen from the doorway.  Top certificate is my certificate of graduation from the Pioneer Library System Academy, meaning I completed all the required job training set for me at that time.

The picture on the right is next to the computer, only visible from the workspace itself, or the cubicles behind it.

There is also a wall that faces the back door, and it has a copy of the Hellboy picture signed for my young colleague who also uses this work area.  (And I think my Nerdy Dozen certificate for finishing the first round of web 2.0 training is on that wall, too.)

I have a talking Dalek stuffed toy that is on the shelf above the desk soon to be joined by a baby penguin and a mini minion figure.  There will also be a Clay Morrow Pop figure on the desk soon.

Gotta keep the fan love alive!

Here's the final wall of the "Perlman Gallery"  Darrin's HellBoy pic, and my Nerdy Dozen certificate.







This move was in preparation for a third 40-hour person coming to join our department.  I am hopeful that my superiors have chosen well, and that this person will blend well with our little band of crazy circulators.  (Hey, we may be nuts, but we have fun, and boy, do we get a lot of work done!)

Except me, at home, right now.  Not getting a whole lot done except writing this blog post.  Which is one of the things I've been meaning to do, just not one of the ones I really SHOULD be doing at this particular time.

As always, thanks for reading.  If you've made it this far, I salute you!  You are obviously one of the Bored and/or the Brave!

Avoidance Behavior

There are some things we put off just because we really don't want to do them.  They are hard, or inconvenient, or boring, or all three.  Housework, other common chores, writing.  Well, writing isn't usually boring, but it is hard, and can be unpleasant when one doesn't feel there is anything to say.  Or perhaps there is a lot to say, and the saying of it is very difficult.
I often try to avoid housework, because after almost 29 years of keeping house, I am rather weary of it at times.  At other times, the housework is a way to avoid something else. Sometimes the housework is a necessary literal as well as figurative clearing of the decks so that other work can commence.  Dealing with the distracting details, like the dust bunnies in the hall, or the feeling that you would probably pretend not to be home if anyone came to the door simply because the state of your floors was embarrassing 
So, this evening, rather than try to come up with a decent blog post, I cleaned house.  I feel better now, because the environment I find myself in is more comfortable, and doesn't distract me with feelings of unmet obligations in the "real" world. 
Several times in my life I have retreated into books or movies as a way to avoid thinking about things I'd rather not deal with, or to distract myself from the fact that I was in a stale and stagnant place.  The alternate realities found in books and movies give a respite from what is currently bothering me.  I am sure that this is a normal condition among human creatures.  Needing an escape, if only for awhile.  There are movies I have watched over and over,  just because something in the story spoke to me, or amused me.  There are books and stories I have read and re-read for the same reason. 
Writing is not an escape for me.  I find I cannot write fiction.  It doesn't matter that I have always had a vivid imagination, and have lovely daydreams, I find I cannot put them on the page.  Poetry works, but poetry is about feelings, about dealing with joys and sorrows and sometimes humdrums of life, not usually about fantasy and escape.  Oh, I suppose it could be, but mine usually isn't. 
Now, I guess I should amend my claim that I cannot write fiction at all.  I have written some little stories about ghosts.  Those have been rather well received by the friends who have read them, but I have not let them out for critical comment.  They are my children, and I don't feel like watching them die.  They are not the sort of stories that would be popular with children these days.  They are old-fashioned, based very loosely on stories I was told as a child by neighbors and family members. 

A few of my poems have been published, but I was not paid for them, they were printed in a small local newspaper when I was in high school.  One was written for the high school year book supplement my senior year.  I have all of my notebooks where I worked on my poems still.  I still have about three journals going that are specifically for poem building.  Very rarely does anything come of it.  The best ones have sprung themselves on me almost fully formed. 
I remember the very first one I ever wrote for my personal "keeper" notebook.

Of Thoughts and rhymes and mystic verses
Loves and hates and evil curses
Life abounds in wondrous power
Opening up like a complex flower.

I wrote that in 1975 or so.  Fairly typical teenage stuff, at least for me.
The last one that really presented itself to me almost complete came to me during an organ concert at church.  We were sitting down in the chancel, which is not usual, and I could see the stained glass window in the first dormer on the Epistle side of the church, and that is the one that our regular homeless person used to look up at and talk to before and after church.  Looking up at the angel, I wondered what Adam said to it, and what he heard in response.  "Adam's Angel" came to me then, almost complete.  I had to wait until I got out of the church to write it down, and I remember being afraid I would forget something important.  I don't think I did:


Adam's Angel
(A meditation during the organ recital, Nov. 17, 1998)
By Carolyn Kay Armistead

To the rest of us
She is nothing but colored glass
An adornment
But she speaks to Adam;
Or maybe only he will hear her.

Adam isn't always clean
In his Army coat of scruffy green
But he is always serene
As he goes on his way
Beaming.
Doing the Angel's bidding.

"He talks to himself."
One will say.
"He's insane."
Says another.
I don't care.
He talks to angels
And the church wouldn't feel right
Without Adam
Besides,
Isn't he our brother?

Adam, in the old coat,
Who talks to stained glass angels,
And sees a truth we don't.

 This one is in my notes on my Facebook page, and I shared it after I wrote it with a few people at church. 
All of this is to say that sometimes I have to make myself write, and sometimes the writing makes me write.  Sometimes the words just want out, and I can't stop them. 
Most of the time, though, it is a slog.  A lot of staring at the paper or the screen and wondering what ever made me think I had anything worthwhile to say to the world.    It still feels a little egotistical, writing all this and sharing it with the world on my blog, but I need to do it.  I need the discipline.  And, if something I manage to put out there actually strikes a chord with someone who happens upon this blog, and it helps them or makes them laugh, or cheers them, or gives encouragement, then it's worth it.  Even if it just lets them say, "So, I'm not the only one..."