Happy New Year!
There were colourful explosives dancing in the distance and random bursts of youthful screams piercing through the silence of what could have been just another ordinary night.
I had been expecting 2011 but somehow it managed to creep in from the back door and pounce in on me from behind. Just like everything else in life, eh?
Nevertheless, whether you like it or not, 2010 is now officially over and so is the time we scraped painstakingly from an unfortunately consistent effort of persistent procrastination.
I’m guessing this is how New Year’s resolutions really came about. Time, or rather, the lack of it; forces us to realise how little we have done with it so far and we must decide on something at least so that we can move on feeling a tad better about ourselves. Great way to get a new year going but the effects typically wear off by the time that hangover does.
Or in my case and that is the case of someone who stayed in on New Year’s Eve to not risk suffocating amidst squashed human (and more significantly of course because nobody asked me out) – a half-hearted state of self-indulgence induced by stale caffeine.
I say half-hearted because I can already tell that I will not be following through on something even before I decide to follow through on something. Unaware, I have made an unbelievable resolve to not resolve to resolve.
Yes. Since I-forgot-when, I have been entertaining a horrible habit of procrastination that is getting too good at screwing with me and whatever that is left of what I used to believe in. This blog is a perfect example. You wouldn’t care to know this, but it has been in existence since August 2010, and this is my first entry.
My first bloody entry.
Yet, this could easily be perhaps the thousandth time I am attempting to make it happen. Trashing draft after draft; nothing was ever good enough to see it past myself as an obnoxiously critical ass and through my fingertips onto the computer screen.
There seemed to be an infinite number of ways through which I can write an introductory post to inspire a kickass start to The Wannabe Wonders – none of which were doable anymore the instant I got my fingers working on it.
I had been so terrified about making a first impression that I ended up not making any at all.
But I am here now; determined to get this confession in before that dash of new year magic runs out on me and I go back to being unresolved for yet another year.
Plus, it seems really apt to talk about procrastination first because that is about all that I have been up to since I-forgot-when.
As a wannabe who simply wants to be everything that I am not, I started this blog wanting to share wannabe experiences with fellow wannabes. Again, you wouldn’t care to know this, but I just graduated one month ago and I had big plans for The Wannabe Wonders.
Some of which included crafting job interview anecdotes and translating unemployed fresh grad frustrations into relatable words. Along with other wannabe things like blogging about the weather and offering my take on what certain people do to the world.
But reality slapped me across the face before I had time to do any of those things. Before I knew it, I was no longer entitled to having student as my occupation and I now have a job that has nothing to do with what I did in school.
The predictable point is: wannabe writer is on my aspiration list. And boy did I try writing about all those things as they were happening. Words tantalised me as in my head they materialised into entries but none survived my thoughts.
In fact, the more I thought about something, the more likely will it just end up rotting into a corpse of an idea drifting endlessly in helplessness along with the others.
It seemed much wiser to not think at all. So I stopped fretting over what-ifs and pronounced it do o’clock, but there was a problem.
I don’t have guts.
In other words, my way of not having to over-think involved me not doing anything that would imply having to over-think. This is why I can take months to write one blog post. Countless rejections in place just so I wouldn’t get to have anything out there for me to worry about what-ifs.
I am also long-winded.
Here’s another thing for you to sneer at. I wanted to be a novelist. My brain would conjure ideas from nowhere and I would follow each one faithfully; excited like a little kid about Christmas. Today, I have nothing but a miserable collection of chapter ones and character descriptions.
I never stopped doing though. I can’t because there’s nothing else to my name. So whenever I have time, I use it all up to work on a thought. Mere sentences take hours, and they are gone again by the next day because they are not good enough. But time never stops. I wanted to write about Christmas Eve, but then it was Christmas. I wanted to talk about New Year’s Eve, but it was already 2011.
I wonder how it is that I became a pathological procrastinator.
I remember being able to sit and churn out pages for hours non-stop. Now, I am just happy to be able to come up with a decent sentence.
As a result, I have grown to find blank pages simply unbearable; since they seem to be all that I am capable of these days. I would be insanely glad to do anything else just so I wouldn’t have to keep staring into nothing.
And when there are deadlines, I would work my ass off spending most of the time worrying about not worrying and a dollop on pure writing. I know, I don’t get it either. I know, I’m not proud of it too.
But I am whenever I do get back that oh-so-precious groove.
And it’s especially so when you’re someone who’s starting to find a similar problem with pretty much everything. As a wannabe wannabe, I am rightly and truly screwed.
Sometimes, I have to wonder if what it is that I am doing is being done because I really want to or if I am just trying to excuse myself from what it is that I should be doing.
Sometimes, I wonder why it is that I am doing something when I really should be doing something else to make myself a happier person.
I can do this all day. Get stuck and try running away but head off in the wrong direction and then get stuck again. A vicious cycle.
It feels oddly liberating though, to finally be able to ‘fess up properly to this as a start to a spanking new year.
Almost like a resolution.
Now, what about you?