I'm sitting surrounded by books, notes, course handbooks, assignments and other bits and pieces all to do with work. My laptop is perched on my lap (of course) and shares the space with a sleeping cat.
How much work have I done today?
Very little.
I keep telling myself that if I had a proper office or study I'd get loads of work done - I'd be able to leave things out and come back to them, I'd be able to shut the door on it all and go back during the early hours if I wanted.
I think I'd be just the same as I am now - avoiding work.
The really strange thing is that I love my job - it's the best job in the world. I get to have interesting conversations about literature or art every week. I get to read and study things that I would probably just skim over because now I have to know about them in order to teach them. And on top of all that I even get paid.
So why don't I just get down to it and work?
I enjoy the procrastination of reading blogs, of checking Facebook, of updating Twitter, of laughing at the latest posts on b3ta.
Take the internet away from me and my productivity would rocket. I'd also probably read more too.
The answer is clear.
But I don't want to change.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Passion
Jo has met up again with the last guy she met at the Speed Dating and it would appear that although it’s very early days, this could well last a while. She’s really into him and him her – her face lights up when she talks about him and everything about him is described in glowing terms. This happening in the real world combined with me cracking on with the novel has got me thinking about the nature of passion….
It’s my belief that life lived without passion is no life at all. Life is a wild adventure full of excitement, wonderment and above all, passion. But you can only experience this high if you’ve had the low where everything in your life is utter crap. I constantly tell myself that nothing lasts forever, not even the good stuff; in fact I bet I’ve mentioned that in a blog entry already, but I can’t say it enough – we ought to remind ourselves of this fact on a daily basis. I’d hazard a guess that anyone who has truly faced mortality – their own or someone close to them – realises this….once you cut through the polythene vacuum pack of our safe comfortable 21st century life and realise just how fragile all of this is around us, then it’s clear that it’s all transient and could all be gone tomorrow.
When I look at friends and consider how their lives have turned out – the ones who have suffered with mental health problems, the ones who have faced bankruptcy, been homeless, walked out on their partners and children, got through major illnesses, operations…In other words, Life. I realise that no one reaches their 30s without dealing with some of the big stuff. It’s unavoidable. Yet these same people are every bit as normal and sane as the rest of us, in many cases, more sane and certainly more compassionate because they’ve been there and know that each of us treads a very thin line in life.
So with all that in mind it’s hardly surprising that the wise amongst us knowing that this could all be gone tomorrow, are willing and brave enough to live for the passion in their lives today. And I’m not especially talking about sexual passion, although that’s a good a reason as any to get out of bed each day…or should that be, Stay in bed each day! We each need something to motivate us – I know that paying the mortgage bills is a pretty strong motivation to go to work each day, but wouldn’t you, if you could, do a job that you loved to get to each day and the pay at the end of it was a happy bonus? Our society puts so much emphasis upon material goods these days and less upon the emotional or spiritual, if you wish to call it that. Who is happier do you think – the guy commuting to London each morning with a 4 hour daily travelling time and eight hours spent in a little grey concrete box counting beans, or the one outside every day cutting down trees or even driving a tractor? Undoubtedly the bean counter has a far higher material standard of living, but is he as happy? In some cases the answer is a resounding yes, and there are plenty of tractor drivers who have had enough of ploughing up and down the same old patch of land year in year out for precious little in the way of financial reward. I guess what I’m saying here is that following your passion, your dream, is always a better way to live your life.
Some years ago I was a teacher. Many of my contemporaries at Uni are now headteachers, heads of department, important careers, well paid and undoubtedly many of them feel fulfilled and satisfied in their work. I made the decision to leave teaching because I wanted to do something more creative with my life. Financially the decision sucked. But I followed my passions – art, the countryside and writing – to mention just three. It’s a cliché but true that no one lies on their deathbed and says they wish they’d worked more. Follow your passion – you may end up poor, but at least you’ll be happy.
And yes, before you all start adding angry comments about how you’ll be miserable when poor, I realise that too….the real secret is to find the balance – to discover just how little you truly need – you might surprise yourself.
Oh, this is a very preachy post…..They don’t come up that often….must be something I ate.
It’s my belief that life lived without passion is no life at all. Life is a wild adventure full of excitement, wonderment and above all, passion. But you can only experience this high if you’ve had the low where everything in your life is utter crap. I constantly tell myself that nothing lasts forever, not even the good stuff; in fact I bet I’ve mentioned that in a blog entry already, but I can’t say it enough – we ought to remind ourselves of this fact on a daily basis. I’d hazard a guess that anyone who has truly faced mortality – their own or someone close to them – realises this….once you cut through the polythene vacuum pack of our safe comfortable 21st century life and realise just how fragile all of this is around us, then it’s clear that it’s all transient and could all be gone tomorrow.
When I look at friends and consider how their lives have turned out – the ones who have suffered with mental health problems, the ones who have faced bankruptcy, been homeless, walked out on their partners and children, got through major illnesses, operations…In other words, Life. I realise that no one reaches their 30s without dealing with some of the big stuff. It’s unavoidable. Yet these same people are every bit as normal and sane as the rest of us, in many cases, more sane and certainly more compassionate because they’ve been there and know that each of us treads a very thin line in life.
So with all that in mind it’s hardly surprising that the wise amongst us knowing that this could all be gone tomorrow, are willing and brave enough to live for the passion in their lives today. And I’m not especially talking about sexual passion, although that’s a good a reason as any to get out of bed each day…or should that be, Stay in bed each day! We each need something to motivate us – I know that paying the mortgage bills is a pretty strong motivation to go to work each day, but wouldn’t you, if you could, do a job that you loved to get to each day and the pay at the end of it was a happy bonus? Our society puts so much emphasis upon material goods these days and less upon the emotional or spiritual, if you wish to call it that. Who is happier do you think – the guy commuting to London each morning with a 4 hour daily travelling time and eight hours spent in a little grey concrete box counting beans, or the one outside every day cutting down trees or even driving a tractor? Undoubtedly the bean counter has a far higher material standard of living, but is he as happy? In some cases the answer is a resounding yes, and there are plenty of tractor drivers who have had enough of ploughing up and down the same old patch of land year in year out for precious little in the way of financial reward. I guess what I’m saying here is that following your passion, your dream, is always a better way to live your life.
Some years ago I was a teacher. Many of my contemporaries at Uni are now headteachers, heads of department, important careers, well paid and undoubtedly many of them feel fulfilled and satisfied in their work. I made the decision to leave teaching because I wanted to do something more creative with my life. Financially the decision sucked. But I followed my passions – art, the countryside and writing – to mention just three. It’s a cliché but true that no one lies on their deathbed and says they wish they’d worked more. Follow your passion – you may end up poor, but at least you’ll be happy.
And yes, before you all start adding angry comments about how you’ll be miserable when poor, I realise that too….the real secret is to find the balance – to discover just how little you truly need – you might surprise yourself.
Oh, this is a very preachy post…..They don’t come up that often….must be something I ate.
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
The Yellow Wallpaper
I’ve got one bit of work out of the way – an article written and submitted so that’s one thing crossed off the list. Now I’ve still got some redrafting to do and an academic essay to write too, but none of that needs to be in until Friday….
So I’m writing more for the blog…
Are you beginning to see a common thread here? It’s true what they say about writers – that we *have* to write – but that said it doesn’t mean that I get things done.
I’ve always been that type of writer – as a child I kept a diary, in fact sitting in an attic somewhere are volumes of my teenage diaries – tens of thousands of words, all teenage angst, all written in longhand, every day for years. I guess keeping a blog is no different – maybe a little less of the teenage angst and more of the thirty-something angst...
I know that if I went and looked at those old diaries now just opening them would slip me back into my 14 year old self – I would still remember writing those words, feeling those things and very possibly experience the same shock and embarrassment that we all suffer as self-obsessed teens. Or maybe I’d look at it all and not remember any of it and it would feel as if a stranger had written it – that often happens to me with fictional short stories I have written – I no longer recognised sections and wonder if I really wrote that – particularly when it strikes me as being good.
I think that keeping a diary is like holding a conversation with oneself and I suppose depending upon the state of ones’ mental health it will be calm and considered or mad as a box of frogs.
I had a long conversation with Roo the other day – we met for lunch (anything to thwart my deadlines) we were discussing mental health and as she is a nurse and my novel is about a mad woman we’ve both got bits of knowledge about some of the issues surrounding being barking. Aside from which as we both went to the same all girls’ boarding school we spent many years sharing confidences with plenty of crazy females.
One of the best fictional accounts of a woman’s descent into madness is the story The Yellow Wallpaper – it’s about a woman during the late 19th century who is suffering from post-natal depression, she’s alone in an attic room and pretty soon she begins to see figures in the yellow wallpaper and ultimately she swaps places with the wallpaper woman and loses her mind. The story is told in lucid detail and every step of the way the reader can see both sides to the story – yes she’s going mad, but also haven’t most of us seen faces in inanimate objects and then if you’re suffering with an elevated temperature the faces may move….It’s all within the normal bounds of experience and all too easy to understand this woman’s slide into insanity. I think that’s what frightens so many people about mental health problems – we wonder if it’s catching because we understand it so easily….
Or is that just me?
That formed part of my conversation with Roo too – if you’re aware that you’re unhinged does that mean that actually you’re sane? It’s a paradox…And Roo admitted that when she did her psychiatric rotation as part of her training she went to an open psych ward and didn’t know staff from patients….
So I’m writing more for the blog…
Are you beginning to see a common thread here? It’s true what they say about writers – that we *have* to write – but that said it doesn’t mean that I get things done.
I’ve always been that type of writer – as a child I kept a diary, in fact sitting in an attic somewhere are volumes of my teenage diaries – tens of thousands of words, all teenage angst, all written in longhand, every day for years. I guess keeping a blog is no different – maybe a little less of the teenage angst and more of the thirty-something angst...
I know that if I went and looked at those old diaries now just opening them would slip me back into my 14 year old self – I would still remember writing those words, feeling those things and very possibly experience the same shock and embarrassment that we all suffer as self-obsessed teens. Or maybe I’d look at it all and not remember any of it and it would feel as if a stranger had written it – that often happens to me with fictional short stories I have written – I no longer recognised sections and wonder if I really wrote that – particularly when it strikes me as being good.
I think that keeping a diary is like holding a conversation with oneself and I suppose depending upon the state of ones’ mental health it will be calm and considered or mad as a box of frogs.
I had a long conversation with Roo the other day – we met for lunch (anything to thwart my deadlines) we were discussing mental health and as she is a nurse and my novel is about a mad woman we’ve both got bits of knowledge about some of the issues surrounding being barking. Aside from which as we both went to the same all girls’ boarding school we spent many years sharing confidences with plenty of crazy females.
One of the best fictional accounts of a woman’s descent into madness is the story The Yellow Wallpaper – it’s about a woman during the late 19th century who is suffering from post-natal depression, she’s alone in an attic room and pretty soon she begins to see figures in the yellow wallpaper and ultimately she swaps places with the wallpaper woman and loses her mind. The story is told in lucid detail and every step of the way the reader can see both sides to the story – yes she’s going mad, but also haven’t most of us seen faces in inanimate objects and then if you’re suffering with an elevated temperature the faces may move….It’s all within the normal bounds of experience and all too easy to understand this woman’s slide into insanity. I think that’s what frightens so many people about mental health problems – we wonder if it’s catching because we understand it so easily….
Or is that just me?
That formed part of my conversation with Roo too – if you’re aware that you’re unhinged does that mean that actually you’re sane? It’s a paradox…And Roo admitted that when she did her psychiatric rotation as part of her training she went to an open psych ward and didn’t know staff from patients….
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