Entries filed under procrastination
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- What Should I Do While Working Late Tonight? [#]
- Weekly recap of being a PA, and other things [#]
- 16 Horsepower motivation [#]
- unemployment and the beard [#]
- today, little happened [#]
- Writing update from late-December [#]
- Back in the saddle [#]
- difficulty working [#]
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What Should I Do While Working Late Tonight?
Oct. 11th, 2006 | 05:47 pm
I will be working in the office tonight until at least 11:30 pm, with very little to do work-wise. However, due to the nature of my job, I'm tied to my desk. So, my question for you is:
Poll #842733 What To Do While Working Late Tonight
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 10
Poll #842733 What To Do While Working Late Tonight
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 10
How should I fill the next six hours?
View Answers
Browse the web, reading my friends page and boingboing.net
2 (20.0%)
Close the door to my office and do squat-thrusts until I'm sweaty and tired 2 (20.0%)
Work on my TV spec script 1 (10.0%)
Answer emails 1 (10.0%)
Shoot the shit with my other late-working coworkers 0 (0.0%)
Telephone friends and family 0 (0.0%)
Finish those half-done blog entries I have stored up 3 (30.0%)
Watch TV 0 (0.0%)
Search the net to figure out why my scooter will not start 1 (10.0%)
Read a book 0 (0.0%)
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Weekly recap of being a PA, and other things
Mar. 10th, 2006 | 06:01 pm
Let's try this Ken Levine recap-style:
I'm really enjoying Ario's most recent mix tape/cd/digital files collection. With personal DJs like these, who needs KCRW?
On a run today (the car kind, not the healthy kind) I passed a flower shop who's sign read "Flowers DO Make A Difference". I'd never seen an insecure flower shop before.
I miss the cereal Halbe bought. It tasted way better than the kind I got. Of course, I don't know what I was expecting from "High Fiber O's".
You learn a lot about production during the first few days of being a PA. After than, you just learn more about how it sucks to be a PA.
Except today. Me, the other PA, and APOC have spent the past hour challenging each other to hit various targets in the office with rubber bands. The ultimate challenge is to stick the three hanging lamps in a row. We call it "The Triple Crown."
I'm really enjoying Ario's most recent mix tape/cd/digital files collection. With personal DJs like these, who needs KCRW?
On a run today (the car kind, not the healthy kind) I passed a flower shop who's sign read "Flowers DO Make A Difference". I'd never seen an insecure flower shop before.
I miss the cereal Halbe bought. It tasted way better than the kind I got. Of course, I don't know what I was expecting from "High Fiber O's".
You learn a lot about production during the first few days of being a PA. After than, you just learn more about how it sucks to be a PA.
Except today. Me, the other PA, and APOC have spent the past hour challenging each other to hit various targets in the office with rubber bands. The ultimate challenge is to stick the three hanging lamps in a row. We call it "The Triple Crown."
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16 Horsepower motivation
Feb. 7th, 2006 | 12:30 pm
Note: The music of 16 Horsepower, especially the slow, wailing tracks such as "Horse Head Fiddle", are magically beautiful, but deplete a man's will to act. The past 35 minutes have been spent gazing, unfocused, at my venetian blinds.
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unemployment and the beard
Jan. 9th, 2006 | 11:22 pm
music: The Offspring - Why Don't You Get A Job
I believe I have reached a new level of unemployment: I've grown a beard. Or, at least my best effort's patchy equivalent. I'm almost done with the itchy phase.
It's too easy to piss away a day. I had a thought, around 2 this afternoon. I'd just finished a Dan Brown book, one I'd been reading since this morning -- the same morning I'd risen from my bed, fresh and ready to get some real writing done. I thought the time we have, from our first breath to our last, can be likened to a single day. Hours had been used reading this book, the details of which have already begun to fade from memory. I had procrastinated. My will had not overcome the more immediate distraction of the book. Then it was 2 pm, and the day more than half over.
It struck me that aging, year by year, was similar. The moments are measured in months, not minutes, but follows like rules. I'm 24, right now. That's about, what... 10 am in our life-in-a-day? I woke up, had some breakfast (school), got ready to work (college, moved to LA), and now it's solidly mid-morning. Time for business.
But today I picked up a book. And I was afraid I'd set it down and I'd be 35. It's silly, I know, but it's what I'm thinking about.
So, I get angry at myself. And frustrated at my lack of discipline. I make thousands of silent, mental decisions throughout the day, from the mundane to not-very-interesting. Going, coming, what kind of sandwich to make for lunch, etc. But the most important are these little choices about what I should do with my time. I'm always thinking about writing. The only time I'm not is when I'm writing, or when I'm mentally thinking through a writing-related problem. That said, there is a repeated conflict that often comes in the form of an urge. It seems the more I want to write (but am not actually writing), the stronger the urges are. I'm poised at the keyboard, mid-sentence, or maybe just on my way to the office, when it comes: how 'bout some cashews? or, What's that magazine say? Hey, look up Bernini on Wikipedia. I know I shouldn't, but there is always the killer argument: There's plenty of time. You can write later.
On bad days, I fall for it, over and over. Then it's 2 pm. Then 4. Then that golden-orange light of a sunset comes. I'm turning on the lamps. Halbe gets home. Dinner, some TV, and then it's to bed and a silent promise that tomorrow, tomorrow I'll get some real writing done.
Should I write an entry detailing what I'm thinking about, or should I go to bed at a decent hour so I'll be well rested for tomorrow?
Page count: 102 (barely)
It's too easy to piss away a day. I had a thought, around 2 this afternoon. I'd just finished a Dan Brown book, one I'd been reading since this morning -- the same morning I'd risen from my bed, fresh and ready to get some real writing done. I thought the time we have, from our first breath to our last, can be likened to a single day. Hours had been used reading this book, the details of which have already begun to fade from memory. I had procrastinated. My will had not overcome the more immediate distraction of the book. Then it was 2 pm, and the day more than half over.
It struck me that aging, year by year, was similar. The moments are measured in months, not minutes, but follows like rules. I'm 24, right now. That's about, what... 10 am in our life-in-a-day? I woke up, had some breakfast (school), got ready to work (college, moved to LA), and now it's solidly mid-morning. Time for business.
But today I picked up a book. And I was afraid I'd set it down and I'd be 35. It's silly, I know, but it's what I'm thinking about.
So, I get angry at myself. And frustrated at my lack of discipline. I make thousands of silent, mental decisions throughout the day, from the mundane to not-very-interesting. Going, coming, what kind of sandwich to make for lunch, etc. But the most important are these little choices about what I should do with my time. I'm always thinking about writing. The only time I'm not is when I'm writing, or when I'm mentally thinking through a writing-related problem. That said, there is a repeated conflict that often comes in the form of an urge. It seems the more I want to write (but am not actually writing), the stronger the urges are. I'm poised at the keyboard, mid-sentence, or maybe just on my way to the office, when it comes: how 'bout some cashews? or, What's that magazine say? Hey, look up Bernini on Wikipedia. I know I shouldn't, but there is always the killer argument: There's plenty of time. You can write later.
On bad days, I fall for it, over and over. Then it's 2 pm. Then 4. Then that golden-orange light of a sunset comes. I'm turning on the lamps. Halbe gets home. Dinner, some TV, and then it's to bed and a silent promise that tomorrow, tomorrow I'll get some real writing done.
Should I write an entry detailing what I'm thinking about, or should I go to bed at a decent hour so I'll be well rested for tomorrow?
Page count: 102 (barely)
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today, little happened
Jan. 5th, 2006 | 06:02 pm
Today, I suck. I wrote nothing. I spent the first part of the day (8 am - 12 pm) making a website for Halbe's mom. Then I spent way too much time trying to figure out how to embed my journal in devondelapp.com, failed (I think I know how, but I need to be a paid user), then watched part of Kingpin, "rested my eyes", and now it's 6 in the evening.
Page count? Still 93. Boo.
Page count? Still 93. Boo.
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Writing update from late-December
Jan. 4th, 2006 | 05:43 pm
This is a writing update, written on December 23rd:
Who puts two spaces between sentences, and who puts one? I've long put one, but screenplay format (usually) calls for two, and the habit is spilling over into everything I type. It's interesting that HTML by default, will show only one (even if two spaces are inserted, it is interpreted as extraneous whitespace in the code, and automatically reduced to one, unless specific formatting is requested).
Wednesday ended with only 3 pages written (top of page 72), much of that edits and additions to earlier scenes -- a far cry from the 15 pages I'd hoped for (or more, to catch up with the counts of Monday and Tuesday). Most of time was instead spent a) reading things on the Internet, b) looking for things to read on the Internet, c) bringing Halbe's gift to a coworker she had left at home to her office, and d) watching TiVo'ed television (Family Guy, mostly). The odd part of all this is I felt only a fraction of the crippling guilt that usually arises from wasting a whole day. The self-reproach typically clenches my stomach and lays like a cold shroud across my chest (really). Thursday, I felt only a passing light-headedness, which an hour of lying on the couch, munching on crackers, rapidly absolved.
Thursday felt more focused, and I wrote from 9 o'clock in the morning till about 8 in the evening, with only the occasional break for food and bathroom. I called it quits on page 84 -- a 12 page gain. As an added bonus, these pages resulted in an uncommon sense of accomplishment. It was an important section: the Act II climax (I think? I never really divided the outline into Acts), and its denouement. These scenes will of course be edited many times, but I'm satisfied with how much of my original intention came through, as well as new jokes and ideas that came out organically during the writing.
Friday was a "short day", as I picked up Halbe from work at noon. Those morning hours were spent watching television (Family Guy, Hot Properties (to those who judge, I know a writer on it), and the Sundance Channel original series, Iconoclast: Robert Redford on Paul Newman) and writing a few emails that needed to go out before the holidays.
Update, Jan. 4th 5:45 pm: Since returning on Monday evening, I spent yesterday (Tuesday) at the Ellen thing, and most of today writing. I'm currently on page 93. Hooray! I passed the official "90 page" mark, 90 pages being the typical short end of script lengths. Story-wise, I'm about 50-60% of the way through. It's hard to say exactly -- I recently added another section not found in the original, September outline.
Who puts two spaces between sentences, and who puts one? I've long put one, but screenplay format (usually) calls for two, and the habit is spilling over into everything I type. It's interesting that HTML by default, will show only one (even if two spaces are inserted, it is interpreted as extraneous whitespace in the code, and automatically reduced to one, unless specific formatting is requested).
Wednesday ended with only 3 pages written (top of page 72), much of that edits and additions to earlier scenes -- a far cry from the 15 pages I'd hoped for (or more, to catch up with the counts of Monday and Tuesday). Most of time was instead spent a) reading things on the Internet, b) looking for things to read on the Internet, c) bringing Halbe's gift to a coworker she had left at home to her office, and d) watching TiVo'ed television (Family Guy, mostly). The odd part of all this is I felt only a fraction of the crippling guilt that usually arises from wasting a whole day. The self-reproach typically clenches my stomach and lays like a cold shroud across my chest (really). Thursday, I felt only a passing light-headedness, which an hour of lying on the couch, munching on crackers, rapidly absolved.
Thursday felt more focused, and I wrote from 9 o'clock in the morning till about 8 in the evening, with only the occasional break for food and bathroom. I called it quits on page 84 -- a 12 page gain. As an added bonus, these pages resulted in an uncommon sense of accomplishment. It was an important section: the Act II climax (I think? I never really divided the outline into Acts), and its denouement. These scenes will of course be edited many times, but I'm satisfied with how much of my original intention came through, as well as new jokes and ideas that came out organically during the writing.
Friday was a "short day", as I picked up Halbe from work at noon. Those morning hours were spent watching television (Family Guy, Hot Properties (to those who judge, I know a writer on it), and the Sundance Channel original series, Iconoclast: Robert Redford on Paul Newman) and writing a few emails that needed to go out before the holidays.
Update, Jan. 4th 5:45 pm: Since returning on Monday evening, I spent yesterday (Tuesday) at the Ellen thing, and most of today writing. I'm currently on page 93. Hooray! I passed the official "90 page" mark, 90 pages being the typical short end of script lengths. Story-wise, I'm about 50-60% of the way through. It's hard to say exactly -- I recently added another section not found in the original, September outline.
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Back in the saddle
Jan. 3rd, 2006 | 12:06 pm
After a wonderful 10-day break from my strenuous job-free lifestyle to visit the Northwest (more on that later, of course), I am back in Los Angeles and ready to work. No pages were written during the entire holiday, unfortunately. It was only with a steady diet of chocolate almonds and eggnog that I was able to keep my guilt at bay. I dreamt of my triumphant return to Southern California, and the wondrous works my rested mind could now create. I even read that torrential storms doused the metropolis, cleansing it in preparation for my arrival.
And now I am here, at my keyboard, ready, finally ready to let the verse pour forth, the words begging for release, the boarders of my imagination stretched tight like the skin of a well-tuned drum. And at the fateful moment, what happens? What invite do I choose to accept and abandon my keyboard at this exalted moment? How will the golden moments of my day be spent?
I'm going to a taping of the Ellen show!
More later!
And now I am here, at my keyboard, ready, finally ready to let the verse pour forth, the words begging for release, the boarders of my imagination stretched tight like the skin of a well-tuned drum. And at the fateful moment, what happens? What invite do I choose to accept and abandon my keyboard at this exalted moment? How will the golden moments of my day be spent?
I'm going to a taping of the Ellen show!
More later!
Link | Leave a comment {8} | Add to Memories | Share this!
difficulty working
Dec. 20th, 2005 | 03:38 pm
I've been screwing around today like nothing, and am now sick in my stomach from the guilt. This is made worse by my self-imposed deadline/goal for the week. I had a perfectly nice, productive morning (5 pages). Shortly after 12, I just started goofing off. I read blogs, and news articles, and scripts. But didn't write. Now it's after 3 and I'm no further. I'm already "behind" because of my lackluster production yesterday.
So I closed all those windows and scripts to get to work.
I'm hungry though (no lunch yet), but whenever I walk to the kitchen, I freeze up. Should I be writing now, not making a tuna sandwich. So I stood there with the can, shooting uncertain glances from my laptop to the cupboard. Eventually, I brought the can with me, and it sits now beside my computer as I type this.
So I closed all those windows and scripts to get to work.
I'm hungry though (no lunch yet), but whenever I walk to the kitchen, I freeze up. Should I be writing now, not making a tuna sandwich. So I stood there with the can, shooting uncertain glances from my laptop to the cupboard. Eventually, I brought the can with me, and it sits now beside my computer as I type this.