I cannot stop procrastinating. I can’t stop. I have so much to do, but all I do is lag around on the internet and look at stories about what other writers are doing and feel jealous. Or watch youtube videos and feel good. Or check my yahoo email for the 200th time that hour. The other day I literally just sat clicking “refresh” over and over and over, like I was picking some kind of cyberscab. What the FUCK is wrong with me that I can’t do any work? The things I find to do instead of working are endless and ridiculous, and endlessly ridiculous. There’s the click refresh thing. There’s googling myself, googling ex boyfriends, googling images of a corgi to email to my friend who is looking for a dog. Then I go to oprah.com to see who’s gonna be on oprah that week. Then I’ll watch Oprah. I joined Facebook, which is another deep, dark, wet, lime covered well of nothingness in which all creativity and actual attempts to make something of myself gets swallowed as I throw my allotted grains of time into the wind, writing on other people’s “walls.”
There’s taking every call and arranging to go have drinks with people even when I just had a drink. There’s feeling anxious about other people, which makes me anxious about myself, and then anxirty about myself. There’s anxiety about being one of those self absorbed middle class white people who thinks about their own anxiety. There’s checking my bank account online. I google image myself (Osama is still there.) I read the NYTimes online and feel like whenever they post an article that won’t be out in the actual paper until tomorrow that I am seeing into the future. I email my ex boyfriend. I think about emailing another ex boyfriend. I help another ex boyfriend look for a couch. I try to write a joke in my joke notebook. I do more emails, and start justifying to myself that my emails are so good they are like doing real writing. I go to the movies. I straighten up papers and open my mail. I throw the opened envelopes into the trash. I enter events on my yahoo calendar. I look at my face in the mirror and try to tell if I look older than a few months ago or days ago. Or am I miraculously ageless (yes! I think I am! Oh wait…) I make dr appointments. I go to a cafe to write and end up just sitting there waiting for my husband to walk in the door. Like if I just look cute enough drinking a latte and reading TimeOutNY some guy will walk in and fall in love with me at first sight and talk to me and ask me to go for a walk and then we would get married. I look at who is wearing wedding rings. EVERYONE. The other day I was at my cafe and kind of thought this super chubby guy was cute, and I tried to stare at him a little bit, to let him know that I loved him in spite of his heft and always would. At one point he looked at me and I could tell he was freaked out that such a pretty girl was looking at him, even though he knows he’s gained some weight. He sat down with his coffee and I got ready for an hour of desirey eye staring. But then I saw that some other girl is already in love with his fat ass because he too had a wedding ring.
I should just do what I have to do.