Thoughts on a Sunday #2 – On Procrastination

Wow, it's February already. I'm kind of surprised it happened so quickly. Then again, not really; I'm getting used to time passing more quickly these days. (I've spoken to so many people who don't have plans for Easter. "Oooh but April is so far away" – it really isn't?! I have plans beyond Easter. It won't sneak up on my like it does every year, not this time.)

January wasn't too bad a month for me. I did a lot of planning, a lot of considering, and yes, a lot of complaining about situations that need to change. I made it through my birthday just fine, and have found myself saying "I'm now getting to an age where..." far more often than is good for anybody. I organised some much needed trips to see friends, and intend to organise even more trips just for myself, because I need to SEE THE WORLD see more of the country I live in. I had my Myers-Briggs type determined, and my best fit seems to be INTP, which, whether you believe in this kind of thing or not, still taught me a lot about myself.

Which brings me to my biggest enemy, and my challenge for the upcoming weeks: procrastination.
As an INTP I live in my head a lot. I have many interests, and I love making plans, but actually getting stuff done – that's something else. I get distracted easily and find it hard to stick to something if I don't see the immediate benefit of it, which is what procrastination is all about.

I'm thinking about this now because it's Unprocrastination Month over at zenhabits, and because author and cool person Joe Hill only yesterday posted about his two weeks of self-imposed Internet restriction. I really recommend you read that second link, because it's insightful. To me it's also next to impossible, because
a) I don't have a treadmill
b) I spend 8-10 hours a day in an office.

In addition to those 8-10 hours in an office, I also spend 2-3 hours a day commuting. While, during my commute, I get at at least a good deal of reading done, that's about it for "productivity" during the week. In the evening I usually get home and spend the last three hours of the day in a kind of stupor, watching videos or faffing about on tumblr until it's time for bed, because ugh life and work and exhaustion. My treadmill is 15 minutes of yoga (oh shut up; compare my current Plank-to-Cobra transition to what I did a month ago and tell me again how 15 minutes a day don't mean a thing), and limited Internet usage is but a dream, considering I work in media.

This month, all this shall end.

I've got lots to do, and I can't afford spending five days a week doing nothing but work (for other people, not myself) and sleep. Over the course of this month I will post more; I will look at different productivity tools and techniques and see what they do for me, and I will chart my progress, as far as I can share that here. Let's hope there's some insight on the other end of this.

I AM READY.

Happy February!

This is gonna be a good month.

To start it well, have this fantastic interview with Brian Blessed that's been on my mind lately:
(Do I need to say it contains lots and lots of strong language? It's Brian Blessed, I mean...)



If you don't want to see it all and only have a minute, forward to 5:40.

Have a great day!

Happy January

Can you believe 2014 is already 12 days old? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN.

I'm slowly settling into the new year: thinking about the past twelve months, making plans for the next – there's much to do, and I'm just way too good at self-sabotage. So I'm exploring ways to use my days and my time better; observe what works and what doesn't, what times of the day are the best for which kind of work. I even have lots and lots of ideas for blog posts, believe it or not. If only I can get my racing mind to channel them into some halfway coherent texts...

Yesterday I had to be up and on my way to a first-thing-in-the-morning hairdresser's appointment by the time the sun was coming up. So I spent a twenty-minute bus ride admiring the morning light. In books I always read about this golden light of a sunrise or sunset, and that description never does much for me in writing. When you see it, though – it's magical. When I had arrived in town it was way before my appointment time, so I walked around a bit, looking at the buildings, wandering the empty streets no tourist sets foot on before the shops open. And I thought, this is my thing.

So this morning I woke up, checked for clouds, and when I couldn't see any I threw on my jacket and went to greet the sun. I swear, the world was golden. It was beautiful. This light, and the quiet that comes with it – that's why I love mornings and I'm actually glad not many other people bother with it. The mornings belong to the few of us willing to get up early.

Merry Christmas

This was taken at the Christmas market on Sunday. Can you tell which city?

I'm in Germany, where Christmas is celebrated the only possible way: you get presents on Christmas Eve. Then you eat tons of potato salad, play with your presents and go to sleep. The next two days are more food and more play.

So this morning I woke up, looked at my presents, did this wonderful yoga practice right next to our tree, finished reading my latest book and had a ginormous breakfast together with my parents. Christmas has always been a quiet time in our family, where the stress is reduced to a minimum; where anything goes but nothing must; where we consume a ridiculous amount of calories while reading a ridiculous number of book pages and watching at least four or five movies; where we speak to family, and visit our grandmother, and try not to think about anything that usually worries us.

For me, it's time to relax as much as I possibly can and re-charge my batteries before I go back to the big city. It's time to review the past year and prepare for the months ahead. A time to be grateful, and a time to plan.

I hope that whoever reads this has a wonderful couple of days.

Thoughts on a Sunday

The UK seems to be getting a long autumn this year. The weather has been beautiful, the colours vibrant, and not even the storm a couple of weeks back managed to blow all the leaves off the trees. It reminds me of the year I spent living in Scotland, where autumn in all its glory seemed to last several months.

It's amazing how time passes; I absolutely don't remember how we got from 10th October to 10th November. The past few weeks have been demanding and stressful, so it was only a matter of time until I caught a cold, and on Thursday I left work early to avoid keeling over somewhere between my desk and the kitchen. Since then it's all been about self-care: watching movies, reading books, lots of tea and lots of sleep.

A few days ago, after a disappointing phone call had finally left me completely mentally drained, I realised how much I not only miss, but need meaningful conversations. I haven't been in the adult world (read: work) for that long, but it should be long enough to finally have gotten used to the breathtaking amount of bullshit smalltalk that goes on in it. Still, I'm not used to it, and it drives me up the walls.

Whenever I feel like this I'm reminded of this quote. I don't like the whole "me vs. them" attitude, mostly because I know, because I've glimpsed bits and pieces of many people, that they're highly interesting human beings; intelligent, funny, and passionate, with opinions, and knowledge. Which is why I can't bear this talk about work and the last movie we watched anymore. Every time somebody starts to tell me about how their TV set started showing a frizzy picture last night I want to physically shake them and yell, "When was the last time something made you really angry? What do you live for? Who is the most important person in your life? For the love of the deity of your choice, at least tell me your favourite colour!" If we're going to be vomiting out words for the ten minutes we're having to spend in the same room together (because ew silence so uncomfortable), then why don't we at least use them for something interesting?

Like to describe how this song feels:

That One Movie: Winter Passing

For weeks I've been waiting for the perfect afternoon: a cold, preferably rainy autumn day when the world seems to have gone quiet and I have a few hours to myself. Today, I decided, was the day.
So I watched Winter Passing.

 
Meet Reese (Zooey Deschanel), a young actress living in New York. Her career, just like her life as a whole, is not going well, so when she is approached by a literary agent about a series of letters once exchanged between her father and late mother, both highly celebrated writers, the estranged daughter decides to return. Upon arriving at her Michigan family house, Reese finds herself in what seems like a bizarre parallel universe: the place is inhabited by two strangers named Shelly (Amelia Warner) and Corbit (Will Ferrell), while her father Don (Ed Harris) writes and sleeps in the garage, only returning to the house to have dinner and demolish the bedroom by playing golf in it. Not wanting her father to know that she only came for the letters, Reese moves back into her old room and has to learn to adjust to what seems to be her new "family".

The first twenty minutes or so focus entirely on Reese's life in New York. With her unkempt hair, bare face and heartbreakingly empty eyes, Zooey Deschanel’s character is the image of a young woman’s depression: confused, lost and forlorn, she tries to act tough, but constantly tiptoes along the edge of despair.
Returning home at first does not do her any good either: the house, held up by mountains of books and Shelly’s good intentions, reeks of torment and hopelessness, and in the garage Don slowly, but painfully drowns himself in Bourbon and grief over the recent death of his wife.

The film is set in late autumn and early winter, and you can feel the cold. It's a calm movie, one that rarely ever raises its voice, and yet it cuts as deep as the cold on a crisp November morning. In some parts, it aches.

It was early October and university courses were just starting. I was nineteen years old and had just moved into my first own studio flat. Something had gone wrong with the phone company, so for the first month, I was without an Internet connection. To pass the time I went to the local library once or twice a week to pick up DVDs. That's where I found a copy of Winter Passing.

From the very first time I watched it, this film spoke to me. I think it's very well made in terms of cinematography and soundtrack; I would recommend it to anyone just for the atmosphere, and of course the acting. (If you dislike Zooey Deschanel and/or Will Ferrell because you think all they can do is silly comedy, I urge you to watch this.)
It's painful, though, and I can understand it if some people think it over-the-top painful. However, in that month of October when I was nineteen, I felt that I got this movie, and that this movie got me. I had just gone through the worst summer of my life thus far, and had just started to learn the meaning of solitude. This story at that time lined up with my life, and it's been part of my life since.

Watching Winter Passing has become somewhat of a ritual for me. There are candles, tea, chocolate and at least one tangerine (for the smell; you just need the smell of tangerines at this time of the year). Even though the painful parts don't speak to me as much as they used to, it takes me back to those first weeks of living alone, during those first weeks of autumn, when I was in the process of climbing out of a dark void of my own. Watching it makes me strangely wistful and optimistic at the same time.

I'm glad this movie exists.

It's that time of the year again

So much to do; so many things to see; so many things to try. The winter blues won't get me this year!