This seems to be the hot word right now, “procrastination.”
Bah.
http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2005/1/18/153331/505
Is it the at-war mentality kicking in, the “do our part” bologne whipping us into action?
Is it a New Year’s thing that people realize just how ineffectual they really are?
Just procrastinate.
There’s this thing going around the Internet (well, it’s popular on http://del.icio.us) about procrastination being bad, and how to fix it. See: http://www.dexterity.com/articles/overcoming-procrastination.htm
Screw that. I want to procrastinate. Not much of this shit is really important, anywho. I want to lay around and do absolutely nothing, and I want to be real good at it.
I’m procrastinating procrastinating.
If I can keep cats and plants alive, then maybe it’s time to try to keep a culture going. (I wouldn’t bet on the cultures living long.) I’d still like a shot at one of these miracle machines. I like yogurt.
Assuming gorging on chocolate doesn’t count, I’ve now got three days under my belt without the muddy water. God willing I’ll stick to the decaf stash built up in the freezer, if anything. Oh, the bittersweet taste! The sultry smell! It’s killing me! I want it now!
I am concerned about the spread of English Ivy through Portland-area forests. I’d like to go out with a machete and kick some ivy ass.
I’d recommend cuddling to everyone. You not only melt away with your objet de cuddle but your troubles melt away as well.
One charming thing about cuddling as a goal is that it’s never accomplished or mastered. I got to do it again now.
I watched myself get hooked as if it wasn’t me. Now I’m going to kick it. Even if it kills me. Because it kills me.
Can you say decaf? Then why can’t I???
To knit something on four+ needles of incremental size (4-6-8-10-12 for example), so that perhaps the work would develop some sort of convoluted, helical worm structure.
Another idea is to knit along ribbing to create permanently (pleated) folds in patterns. Is this possible without creating disaster?
It’s OK
To let go
“Behind the hatred there lies a murderous desire… for love!”
-Morrissey
I hold my breath. I shallow breathe. I hiccough every day. My lungs shudder. Enough said.
Qi gong or yoga would help. Maybe I should sign up.
Whenever something goes wrong, I think of leaving, fast and far. I’m an expert re-locator, flighty and alighty. But everything I need to be a happy, healthy, relatively human being is here in Portland. Portland is a beautiful city. There is plenty to do – and not to do – right here in Portland.
I’m the little engine that could stay in Portland.
I discovered that if you pick up loops of previously-knit rows and knit them into what you’re currently knitting, knitting as means to end starts making less sense. I’d like to create a giant jellyfishish “creation” with ugly, stringy yarn and giant, dangerous needles, shellac it stiff, and hang it over the stairwell in my home.
I have the world’s most cuddle-worthy cats and man right here; they’re so soft and sweet the three of them, what am I waiting for?
