Posted on | October 21, 2008 | 2 Comments
I am the quintessential procrastinator. That Hamlet bloke has nothing on me. What the hell is wrong with me? I know I should be doing something a little more worthwhile (relatively speaking at least) and yet I don’t.
Instead I do other things. I drink lots of tea. I stare out of the window for a bit. “That internet’s not going to surf itself”, I say and sluggishly click from one site to another. There are so many unnecessary and inessential draws on my time. How much masturbation do you think is too much, for instance? So many pointless things eating into my day. Eating into the time in which I should be doing something productive.
I need to break this dilatory pattern. I need to steel myself and get a system going. I need to turn off my email notifications. I need to resist the siren call of Google Reader. I need to stop wondering what’s happening on BBC News and Boing Boing.
Damn this internet. Damn its e-ticement. Damn it for its information-allure. Damn its myriad methods of interrupting what I should be doing. Damn it hell for its easily accessible pornography.
P.S. In Sideshow Bob fashion, I am aware of the irony of posting on the internet in order to decry it.