My house is clean, the laundry done, I'm blogging. This raises one question: what exactly is it that I should be doing but don't? Yep, I'm procrastinating. Big time. Before you get all holier than thou on me.... One word: taxes. Plus, I'm positive I've got to pay. My rather obvious way of preventing myself from doing the nasty task is to do all the other tasks I don't like but still prefer over digging out receipts and crunching numbers. As you know from a previous post, though, housework always gets the creative juices flowing. Hey, I'm on a juice-fast, so? Okay, back to serious:
Moviequill asked in his post for tips re: overcoming procrastination. And no, I'm not responsible for that potty-mouthed headline. Seriously. Not responsible. Okay, so he gave some tips and I remembered an article by Dr. Bill Knaus over at Albert Ellis Foundation, aptly titled Beat Procrastination Now! It's rather long, err, comprehensive. First, you might want to scroll to Mental Diversions chapter. So true and hilarious at the same time. If you're in a hurry, you then want to scroll down to Adopt a Philosophy of Self-Acceptance, that's where the lists start, the step-by-step plan. Yepp, not just one list, several lists.
On the other hand, if you're procrastinating screenwriting, you may just have a problem with your sp. Like me. I'm scared of all three of them at the moment. They're in different mega-evil departments of Rewriting-Hell. But they don't let me be, chars showing up at my bedside. Nice. Or you may stuff your pie-hole with actual pie and afterwards need all that precious energy to digest the pie. Just a thought. Oh, and spectator sports? Don't count. You don't actually exercise while you watch other people playing ball. I know, wouldn't that be cool? We could hire professional exercisers and would all be in the best shape ever - all of the time!
CUT TO:
Several hours and far too many computer-crashes later.....
Numbers are crunched for last year and this year --- not too frightening. There are still some deductions around, I'm sure. Got 3 more days to dig them out. Boy, am I feeling relieved!
And I wrote a couple of scenes for my thriller and a new opening for my rom-com. Longhand, how I hate that. Some very funny stuff, though, love that.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Paging Dr. House
Christ. I feel like this whole damned year they've been sticking needles in me, ultrasounded me, x-rayed different body parts and I'm not exactly feeling oh-so-much better. Let me clarifiy: the meds have given me a different set of symptoms. Like, ah, pain. Don't worry, that's just from the water I'm retaining now, says my doc, and I should just cut the dosage of one of the meds in half, no biggie. Nice. At least you didn't kill me, jerk.
Let's look at the bright side:
I'm not anemic anymore, so I won't collapse for lack of iron again. Nice, right? It's something. I'm Iron Woman now, watch out!
Of course I might collapse while being on that juice fast that I'm doing trying to get rid (pronto!) of those useless six pounds I gained on account of the meds, but hey. Plus, they can keep their expensive not-covered-by-any-health-insurance-plan tests, I'm Ms. Heal Thyself Now. Oh, anger is a powerful thing. A source of power.
Where's Dr. House when you need him, anyway? Many of his less fictitious peers got the sucky bedside manner down but none seem to have the knowledge/skills. Or give me Cristina and Meredith Grey. They might be able to come up with something. Urgh, reality sucks so bad sometimes.
Good thing my TV quit. Again. Third time this year. At least its repair is still covered under warranty. Yepp, it's that kind of a TV. The lemon kind a.k.a. JVC. Repairs usually mean I'll be TV-free for at least a week.
As a general rule, TVs only go black-screen on weekends when the manufacturer hotline is not staffed. Trust me, it works like this all the frigging time. The 2-year warranty ends next month. I seriously would like a replacement TV because I don't think this one puppy will ever just work and not break down again in a few weeks.
So I think while I'm trying not to think of solid food, chewing food, the texture of food, et cetera and so forth, you get my driftwood - hey, Dr. Brown would be good, too. What, he's a brain-doc? Shoot.
I think I might as well trade carpal-tunnel pain for the pain in my fingers that is, supposedly, caused by the edemas caused by the meds. (I said edema, you goof, not enema. By the by, enemas are good, according to Prince Charles. I know, Prince of a country where men still proudly display their chest hair, even über-cool (yeah, right) ex-junkie pop-stars, who am I kidding. There's the train, the train of thought, let's jump back on:) Cause and effect, one scene building on the other, I can hardly remember the frigging inciting incident.
Which, I guess, means that I should run out and get some Gingko Biloba or something since my memory clearly isn't working well, either.
And then I'll read the transcript of next weeks House, M.D. episode (they're airing season 2 here). Huh! JVC will not succeed in keeping me from indulging in my fave addictions. Sure, I've read all the posted Grey's Anatomy transcripts I could find. If someone knows where ALL of them are posted, drop me a comment.
Happy Holiday-weekend!
Let's look at the bright side:
I'm not anemic anymore, so I won't collapse for lack of iron again. Nice, right? It's something. I'm Iron Woman now, watch out!
Of course I might collapse while being on that juice fast that I'm doing trying to get rid (pronto!) of those useless six pounds I gained on account of the meds, but hey. Plus, they can keep their expensive not-covered-by-any-health-insurance-plan tests, I'm Ms. Heal Thyself Now. Oh, anger is a powerful thing. A source of power.
Where's Dr. House when you need him, anyway? Many of his less fictitious peers got the sucky bedside manner down but none seem to have the knowledge/skills. Or give me Cristina and Meredith Grey. They might be able to come up with something. Urgh, reality sucks so bad sometimes.
Good thing my TV quit. Again. Third time this year. At least its repair is still covered under warranty. Yepp, it's that kind of a TV. The lemon kind a.k.a. JVC. Repairs usually mean I'll be TV-free for at least a week.
As a general rule, TVs only go black-screen on weekends when the manufacturer hotline is not staffed. Trust me, it works like this all the frigging time. The 2-year warranty ends next month. I seriously would like a replacement TV because I don't think this one puppy will ever just work and not break down again in a few weeks.
So I think while I'm trying not to think of solid food, chewing food, the texture of food, et cetera and so forth, you get my driftwood - hey, Dr. Brown would be good, too. What, he's a brain-doc? Shoot.
I think I might as well trade carpal-tunnel pain for the pain in my fingers that is, supposedly, caused by the edemas caused by the meds. (I said edema, you goof, not enema. By the by, enemas are good, according to Prince Charles. I know, Prince of a country where men still proudly display their chest hair, even über-cool (yeah, right) ex-junkie pop-stars, who am I kidding. There's the train, the train of thought, let's jump back on:) Cause and effect, one scene building on the other, I can hardly remember the frigging inciting incident.
Which, I guess, means that I should run out and get some Gingko Biloba or something since my memory clearly isn't working well, either.
And then I'll read the transcript of next weeks House, M.D. episode (they're airing season 2 here). Huh! JVC will not succeed in keeping me from indulging in my fave addictions. Sure, I've read all the posted Grey's Anatomy transcripts I could find. If someone knows where ALL of them are posted, drop me a comment.
Happy Holiday-weekend!
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