A badge I wear with pride.
No, not pride, the other one…erm…erm…shame! That’s the chap. A badge I wear with shame.
Numfar! Do the dance of shame!
I often find myself doing the dance of shame – it’s a slow, droll rhythm that does little to soothe a guilty conscience, but it passes the time.
There are different reasons we may deserve the aforementioned moniker. For me it’s all about broken promises and line-pushing.
I tell myself I’ll get something done, hit that target, finish a task by a certain time…and then I suddenly find myself three days in the future thinking “was I supposed to be doing something?”
I wish I could always blame my shoddy memory, but most of the time it’s down to my lackadaisical attitude, which goes a little something like this:
- Get enthused about project/goal at work or on commute
- Realise I can’t do anything about it there and then
- Get more enthused and organise plan of attack in meticulous detail
- Forgot about project/goal
- Eat food
- Remember project/goal
- Grin in a maniacal fashion at all the wonderful ideas I had
- Go home – all the while channelling the little train that could “I think I can, I think I can…”
- Get home, schlomp on sofa, wake up three hours later, watch two films, sleep
- Chastise myself the next day, force myself to be enthused about project/goal, get enthused…
You see where this is going.
It’s either that or my line-pushing tendencies, which play out as follows:
- 5:32 – I’ll sort that when I have five minutes spare
- 5:57 – “Hmm, makes more sense to start bang on 6:00”
- 6:17 – Which bastard stole twenty minutes off me? It’s alright, 6:30 works
- 6:45 – Fuck!
- 7:23 – Fuck fuck!
- 8:47 – Well that was an interesting television prog…FUCK!
- 9:23 – I have no inspiration, but I have to finish this tonight
- 10:14 – Surely I don’t have to finish it tonight, tomorrow would be just as good
Rinse and repeat.
I mean, look where I am right now! Posting a day late because I cabbaged out on the sofa last night, woke up, watched some films, then (with thirty minutes to spare, I might add) decided to fob it off until today! Now it’s getting late and I still have to sort out today’s post.
You think after so many years of doing this I would have learnt to stop. Nope. I will continue to schlomp and push, and veg and excuse myself, and nap and justify until the cows come home.
So come on, admit it here for all to see. What are your bad writing habits that have you screaming ‘numptybollocks’ at yourself in the mirror, and putting cigarettes out on your arms as punishment? (Or is that just what I do for fun?)
Are you a slacker, a perfectionist, a self-berating masochist, an early editor? What are the things about yourself that drive you nuts, that you just can’t seem to change?
*dances in a shameful manner*