The Paperwork

Bummage

Into each life some grumpiness must fall



I'm not having a very good day, so I'll keep this short. It's not that I'm having a bad day, exactly; it's more like I'm having an oh-what's-the-use-everybody's-better-than-I-am-at-everything day. Darin usually avoids me on days like these.

I walked into the laundromat today with our laundry. I get our laundry done instead of doing it myself because a)all we have is one of those tiny stackable washer/dryer units and it takes me forever to do a load; b)they wash, dry, and fold; c)better they spend their time doing it than I spend mine. Especially when I'm in a bad mood.

Anyhow, I walked in with the bag of laundry and on the TV was the Olympics, showing some women's swimming event. (Sorry, I don't know which one.) In this event the woman on-screen, an American, was racing against the other competitors' times -- there wasn't anybody else in the water with her. She evidently destroyed not only the competition but the previous Olympic record for this event by 3 seconds.

The announcer mentions, "...and during the off-season she maintains a 3.9 GPA at UCLA in biochemistry."

And volunteers at the Y, and crochets clothes for the poor, and is a trained French chef.

The only thing I had to do this afternoon was get ready for a meeting with my film prof, to discuss a script for a short film that I'm trying to hash out. I still wasn't any more prepared for this meeting today than I had been on Tuesday -- I knew kind of what I want to write about, but that and a buck will get you a cup of coffee. What I needed to do was sit down at Coffee Society and scribble something, anything, onto a piece of paper.

So, of course, first thing I do is go by Orchard Supply Hardware to look for a power cable for my computer. The whole time I'm saying, "Stop it. You're procrastinating. Stop it." And I keep checking the UL numbers on the sides of cables.

OSH didn't have the cable I wanted.

I did the only practical thing. I drove over to CompUSA.

"Stop it! Sit down and figure out what you're going to say to him!"

I found the cable I needed. I drove to Coffee Society. Oh, look, a new Metro.

"Are you always this bad at procrastinating?"

"What, have we just met? Yes, of course I am."

"Think about what an efficient person could get done with the time you waste."

I flipped to the astrology column. There it was, in black and white: my karma is screwed. I started writing. I wrote shit. I went to meet with the teacher. He gave me some good ideas. I came home. You can tell I'm feeling seriously bummed out, because despite being hungry I haven't even had a Pop-Tart yet.

I know I am responsible for my own bummage; you don't need to tell me that.


I've gotten some pointers to good online journals/web sites of late. One is Octavia Z. I started on my downhill slide of everyone-is-better-than-me-etc. because of her site: she's funny, she's got a good eye for design and organization, and she's 21-almost-22. Also, she's a Leo too (everyone knows that Leos are the only sign allowed to believe in astrology). She writes so well. She's 21.

It's. Just. Not. Fair.

Writing isn't supposed to be a competitive sport, but don't you believe it.


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Last Updated: 25-Jul-96
Copyright ©1996 Diane Patterson