paralysis, burnout
Jul. 15th, 2007 09:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Not in particular distress as I write this, for I am only peripherally aware of it, but I've gotten very little done this week/weekend. I have been either sleepy or distracted, unable to focus, and now I suffer from having too many ideas that I want to act on all at once-- and so I am acting on none of them.
I had been looking forward to my first vacation from derby in a year, and thinking of all the things I would catch up on. But I've had other things to do. Since Thursday night my life has been a dance around the problem of needing to be in two places, or wanting to be-- Z's mom being out of town, someone has to be at her house nearly constantly, or at least about three times a day plus overnight. I tried on Friday to bring Chita over, because she can't be left alone overnight either-- I mean, she probably could, but I think it would be cruel. While I think she adapted quite well-- hissing at the dog, but gradually becoming accustomed to her and reducing the amount of bottle-brush-tail quite a bit-- the house's resident cat was far from pleased, and while I feel I alleviated the problem a great deal by giving Chita her own litterbox and locking her with me in a bedroom for most of the time Ernie was inside, I still don't think it was terribly good for poor Ernie, who is very old and needs a lot of medication. Z actually missed a dose because he felt she was too upset to take it.
So I had to stay at home last night with Chita, while Z stayed with Bert and Ernie. We had dinner here, with Chita, and then drank a bit, then went over to his mom's planning to hang out and drink more but instead he just fell asleep while I sat there. So I left, and came home, and was too unsettled and annoyed to get anything much done around the house. He did some dishes while I made dinner, so I did some assorted cleaning last night, but nothing much.
My Wikipedia binge has continued, more or less as a coping mechanism. I'm getting so many ideas from it, and that feels great, but when I try to close the browser window and go do something with them, then I'm forced to confront the fact that I have no clue how to implement any of them. This is not unusual for me; I generally go through phases where I have tons of ideas but get nothing done. But I need time to work through them all in my head, and I'm horribly constrained by the fact that I know this break won't last, I have to be back at work tomorrow morning.
While I won't say I had a great high school career, I do find myself occasionally longing for the days when I would just have two weeks off here and there, with nothing expected from me afterward. I could be so fabulously productive if I had two weeks of nothing particular to do and no way of leaving the house anyway so nobody could expect it.
Ah well. I'll probably go roller skating this afternoon, which I'd been looking forward to but now I really just want the time to sit around and work through unproductivity instead.
Man, this was a boring entry. Oh well. That's why I'm not getting much writing done: it's all fascinating or crucially important in my head, but when I try to formulate it into words, nothing's really worth reading.
I had been looking forward to my first vacation from derby in a year, and thinking of all the things I would catch up on. But I've had other things to do. Since Thursday night my life has been a dance around the problem of needing to be in two places, or wanting to be-- Z's mom being out of town, someone has to be at her house nearly constantly, or at least about three times a day plus overnight. I tried on Friday to bring Chita over, because she can't be left alone overnight either-- I mean, she probably could, but I think it would be cruel. While I think she adapted quite well-- hissing at the dog, but gradually becoming accustomed to her and reducing the amount of bottle-brush-tail quite a bit-- the house's resident cat was far from pleased, and while I feel I alleviated the problem a great deal by giving Chita her own litterbox and locking her with me in a bedroom for most of the time Ernie was inside, I still don't think it was terribly good for poor Ernie, who is very old and needs a lot of medication. Z actually missed a dose because he felt she was too upset to take it.
So I had to stay at home last night with Chita, while Z stayed with Bert and Ernie. We had dinner here, with Chita, and then drank a bit, then went over to his mom's planning to hang out and drink more but instead he just fell asleep while I sat there. So I left, and came home, and was too unsettled and annoyed to get anything much done around the house. He did some dishes while I made dinner, so I did some assorted cleaning last night, but nothing much.
My Wikipedia binge has continued, more or less as a coping mechanism. I'm getting so many ideas from it, and that feels great, but when I try to close the browser window and go do something with them, then I'm forced to confront the fact that I have no clue how to implement any of them. This is not unusual for me; I generally go through phases where I have tons of ideas but get nothing done. But I need time to work through them all in my head, and I'm horribly constrained by the fact that I know this break won't last, I have to be back at work tomorrow morning.
While I won't say I had a great high school career, I do find myself occasionally longing for the days when I would just have two weeks off here and there, with nothing expected from me afterward. I could be so fabulously productive if I had two weeks of nothing particular to do and no way of leaving the house anyway so nobody could expect it.
Ah well. I'll probably go roller skating this afternoon, which I'd been looking forward to but now I really just want the time to sit around and work through unproductivity instead.
Man, this was a boring entry. Oh well. That's why I'm not getting much writing done: it's all fascinating or crucially important in my head, but when I try to formulate it into words, nothing's really worth reading.
