How I wasted a day OR redefining wasted time

I feel like a terrible person.

Wanna know why? I blew a day. A whole day. I did no [real] work today. I woke, made breakfast, and then I sat down and binge-watched How I Met Your Mother. Netflix has the entire series. And I am a Netflix fan. My main sources of entertainment are real life, books and the Internet. I try to Netflix with moderation. But sometimes I end up doing things like binge-watching an entire series in the time that I should have been doing ... you know ... productive stuff.

Like writing. I'm a big believer in the am-writing hashtag world on Twitter, et al. I draw real encouragement from those 140 or less characters detailing other people's struggles and successes with the writing process all across the Twittersphere. I join in the write-at-whatever-hour groups when I can. I join the late-night writers and try to use my after-work hours to polish my future bestsellers. I try to give my writing as much time as I give to my nine-to-five, because I read somewhere that it's ridiculous to give so much time, effort and discipline to another person's dream, and then pretend indiscipline when it comes to your own. I agree with that sentiment. If I can be great at working to build another man's empire, I should be AWESOME at building my own. And I shouldn't need a slavemaster to motivate me to put in the work required to build my own dream.

So I try. I defy sleep sometimes. (Other times, sleep defies me). I forego preparing a proper meal and just settle for quick cereal (I love cereal though). I read. I delve into the worlds of other writers and find out how they're doing, what they're working on, etc. I occasionally go out to get some semblance of a proper meal and socialisation.

But. There are still days like today when no matter how many times I pick up the writing project and say, I'm going to do this .... I end the day thinking, well, I blew it ... again. I didn't do the things I set out to do at all. I had an awesome day of unparallelled productivity planned, and all I ended up doing was sleep ... watch something in between sleep ... some mild housecleaning ... wash clothes, cook something ... sleep some more. That was all the awesomeness my tired brain could manage today.

Failure days?
I hate these kinds of days! They feel like failure days. I hate days when the tired is so much, and the will is so weak ... I just let Netflix take over the thinking for me. Or whatever. It makes me feel guilty. And weak. And miserable inside. And I feel worse for being able to write about how I'm feeling in a blog post, but not do the important writing for the important  projects. *Sigh*. I posted this tweet tonight:

State of mind: #needachange SOON. #amwriting for REDEMPTION. #tired but TRYING. #burnoutisreal. Somehow, in my head, it's #November already.

This truly is my state of mind.
1. I need a change soon. If not, monotony will be the death of me.
2. I AM writing! It's my constant in life. No matter what is going on around me, my ability to write coherently has never left me. And my writing usually somehow goes directly to/from my heart. I value that and see it as a redemptive quality.
3. I'm tired, but I'm trying. These days, this should be my motto. It's not just that I've been fighting flu and sinus issues for the last month ... there's a weariness these days that is so overwhelming ... I ward it off most days, but sometimes, like today, it just hits me full force and it's all I can do to raise my head and look over the edge of the bed. I am realising that burnout is real, because I'm now walking through serious physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. I was on fire for the first seven months of this year, and now? Oh gosh man! I feel like tiredness has set into my bones. I need to rest ... or something, but ... there is so much to do, and so little time to do it in! You don't make an impact by playing it safe. You don't get to do great things by working just a regular job with regular hours. Achievers push. I believe that you don't grow if you don't push yourself past your own limits, so I try to push myself forward, because how else do you expand your horizons? It takes a toll sometimes, but most years, I can look back and honestly say going out of my comfort zone and taking on new responsibility was worth it. If I don't drown under this new workload, 2016 will be one of my best years yet. I'm working for it.
4. I'm not superstitious. I don't believe in any of the spooky stuff either. But I have this great feeling about November. I don't know why, and I can't sensibly explain it, but it's going to be an exceptional month. And in my head, I keep thinking I'm in November already. My brain just keeps skipping past September. Dunno why. Go figure.

Nothing is wasted
Part two of this rant is that I may have to redefine what I call wasted time. Is the time really wasted if I spent it getting some well-needed R&R? At what point did I accept the notion that any time spent doing anything outside of my (perhaps foolishly narrow) definition of productivity is wasted? And why do I feel guilty for giving myself a break for a day? Funny; if I had spent the day reading a novel, I wouldn't feel as terrible. Because it's somehow more sophisticated to say I spent the day reading a literal, physical book, than it is to surf the net (even if most of it is reading long-form opinion in the Guardian and NY Times), or binge-watch anything on Netflix or YouTube. Isn't that just pretentious? Where did I pick up that notion? And is it correct?

And on another level, is anything ever truly 'wasted'? There's a song by Elevation Worship that says 'nothing is wasted'. I'm starting to think maybe they're right, and I should learn to relax and just let life be.

If I did that, today would not be seen as a wasted day. And I wouldn't feel worthless for it. I would realise that after a month of fighting off the flu and not taking any real rest, and on the tail-end of juggling four major side projects in addition to my mainstay job, maybe a day like today is my brain and body's way of reminding me that I am not a robot, and I must occasionally pause and relax.

I want to reach a place where I master the pace of life ... where I'm always building and making progress, but doing it in such a healthy way, my brain and body don't feel the need to just shut down on me. I'm working towards that, too. Maybe I'll get it by November. Or maybe I'll figure that out by the time I'm 60.

Either way, what I'm clear on is that I'm making progress in some sort of way. And even though right now, I still have days like this - where I feel less accomplished than I'd like, in the end, when I look back on the big picture, there's something happening. And that something is good, beneficial, and very, very promising.

I woke this morning with a clear head ... and Nora Ephron came to mind

I woke this morning with a clear head. After walking around for the last three days trying to balance what felt like a swollen, oversized, inflamed bowling ball on my neck and shoulders. The pain has waned, the mucus has subsided, and I woke this morning with a clear, normal-sized head.

Nora Ephron (1941-2012)
Author, journalist, essayist, playwright,
screenwriter, novelist, director, producer,
blogger ... and one of my biggest
inspirations :)

I was going to read my Bible. I took up the laptop to find Matthew 5 and ended up on Pinterest reading Nora Ephron quotes – a turn of events for which I'm sure she would have had several witty remarks. She would probably have worked it into a plot for a famous romantic comedy,  adorning it with brilliant lines that would have made the movie a quotable hit.

Ah, Nora! How she lived! I think of her, and the word fabulous comes to mind. I enjoy her books, movies and essays. So delightfully humorous, and relatable. I loved 'You've Got Mail', 'Sleepless In Seattle' and 'When Harry Met Sally' long before I knew who had written them. In fact, I loved Nora precisely because she wrote these movies. Then I read 'I Remember Nothing' and 'I Feel Bad About My Neck', and I just loved her wit and blunt honesty. It's always refreshing to hear truth without the side serving of bitterness or hate. Some people tell you the truth, but it is so tainted by sadness, it just sounds and looks ugly. Then others tell you the same truths, and there is such a beautiful acceptance - a coming to terms with it - that makes the impartation gentler, more meaningful and ... wholesome.

Nora Ephron had that vibe. She said things that were true, but cushioned them in humour, or with a simple grace that made them more like gentle advisories than rude slaps. And she laughed a lot - at herself and others. Everybody who knew her said so. She mastered the art of taking life just seriously enough to get the lessons without allowing them to permanently harden you. I think I would have liked her if I'd gotten to meet her in the flesh. But I am happy that I got to meet her, to some degree, through her work, and her words.

There's a fundamental presumptuousness which accompanies writing about people we've never met as if we knew them. But there is also something wonderful about getting to meet a person through their work and words. It gives you insight you probably would have missed if you knew them in the flesh, because writing often reveals the depths of a woman/man.

That's why I love the literary arts. It introduces you – intimately – to perfect strangers, and seduces you into connections with people and places unknown. Through their words, you get glimpses of their minds ... and sometimes, what you see is so wonderful – so powerful and dynamic and brilliant – that you fall irrevocably in love. I honestly don't know how anyone goes through life without succumbing to the charm and magic of reading ... and writing.

I like the way Nora Ephron puts it:

“Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I've accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.”

How true! How very, very true.