"It's a Brand New Living Room Set!"

Well, not really, and I'm not auditioning for announcer on The Price Is Right (although I think that position is vacant at the moment). But I've been meaning for awhile to do something about my living room. It is now time to ask: what am I waiting for?

I've got Ben Pilgrim lined up to make me a new purpose-built entertainment center unit for my enormous new TV and associated gear, help me with the new layout, and to install some shelving; I've got Russ to help me figure out the right color for some curtains; and I'm throwing out all the furniture that's in the room right now.

Two love seats instead of that tired futon (so I'll need an air mattress to accommodate guests, too); the new entertainment center; a new coffee table, and a complete reorganization of all the books and CDs and plants and -- just stuff in there. Probably get rid of the rug, too.

Things in my living room are so chaotic and disorganized -- and whenever I do get them organized, difficult to keep that way -- that this is becoming a sanity issue for me. I can take disorganization to a certain extent, and I'm not obsessive about these things -- most of my close friends have heard my "entropy" rant about how it's not economical to keep things maximally clean and organized -- but this is getting ridiculous. Just recognizing that it's really past time to do something about it.

Verdict: didn't seem to have enough time, but priorities change, don't they...?
Prognosis: Excellent. The wheels are in motion, at last -- slowly but surely. There are -- well, let's be honest, the whole rest of the apartment needs some attention, too. The office and bedroom and kitchen... one thing at a time (pretty much). Very exciting!

The Not Beating Myself Up

I'm responsible for everything I do, but responsibility doesn't equal fault in the sense of having to blame someone, call them out, and punish them. There doesn't need to be blaming, just acceptance and remedial action when possible and appropriate.

Important things get done, new adventures are undertaken, old friends are visited, the blog is updated, and dishes are cleaned in good time. Rushing may be in order for some tasks on some occasions, and sometimes lighting a fire under my ass is a good idea -- which is obviously part of why I'm typing right now -- but spending the time and energy worrying about it is counterproductive.

Verdict: Let's not do this right now.
Prognosis: Great.

Let's All Pay Our Taxes Like Normal Adults

I never filed my 2008 tax return; not until the other day. I didn't owe any money, which I was confident I wouldn't, so that is not a problem. It's just stupid that I didn't file a damn tax return. I filed the 2009 return on time this year -- just barely within the legal limit that was extended for residents of the State of Rhode Island in view of the flooding that occurred here in March.

Filing taxes is, in my opinion, a waste of everyone's time and brain power. I won't get any further into that here. But it's the law and it has to be done. Furthermore, it has been an even greater waste of my brain power not to file my tax return for such a long time. It ended up being something I kept thinking about, kept worrying about in spite of there really being nothing to worry about -- not to mention the fact that I had to keep seeing all that stupid paper work at the top of my stack for all those months, and kept saying I would do it, but didn't. What's with that? Sometimes it's a really great idea to let things that aren't really important slide -- they'll still be there later. But this was very different from waiting another two days to do some dishes. Just lame.

Sorry Excuses: "I don't have to do it now; I'll do it later." "It will wait." (Not exactly wrong, but just lame.) "I don't know the right things to fill in." (Again, not wrong; but why not go to the accountant who can help you? Sheesh.)
Verdict: lazy (mostly)
Prognosis: Getting better, I hope. Although I dealt with this year's return at a normal time, I still waited until the last minute. That kind of thing should stop. When I need to get something done, I should just go ahead and do it. My expedited passport renewal process is a good opportunity for me to prove I really mean this.

"Surfing Is Insane and Wonderful"; or, "Why I have a liter of seawater in my belly."

I'm happy to say that on this occasion, I can report something straight away that I have already done, rather than something I shoulda coulda woulda will-probably-hopefully-maybe soon be doing. (Maybe it's just because I was too lazy to write about it sooner, but I can't be perfect.) I spent yesterday afternoon surfing. And it was scary and fun and just plain awesome.

My friend came home from his Costa Rica vacation raving about how fun it was, and when I expressed interest in trying it, he suggested I come to a lesson with him. So off we went. And I knew even as we drove down to Narragansett in the morning that I had no idea what to expect. The actual lesson with instructions lasted about 5 minutes or so, covering some basics; the next lesson was get into the water and surf.

My very first time paddling out and trying to catch waves was not exactly a fantastic success. It was pretty overwhelming when I started walking and then got on the board and started paddling -- especially as the waves were quite tall, 6 feet and more. I had a minor victory in that I avoided any kind of panic attack relating to being tossed about by 6 foot high waves. I did make it out there. But then I got my ass tossed around and flipped over. I was so exhausted that I was forced to stick to the basics: get on my board, get it pointed toward the shore, get paddling a bit, and actually ride a wave or two. But then I had to sit on the shore for 10-12 minutes to get my breath back -- and get my head together!

After that, I stuck to the shallower water, and just worked on the basics of paddling and catching waves. Still wasn't doing a particularly great job, but I had a lot of fun. And I'm ready to get out there again next weekend and give it another try.

Sorry Excuses: "I'm not comfortable with that," I guess? (Kind of a water phobia.)
Verdict: scared
Prognosis: Already cured, I think... (or at least the treatment is in progress)

日本語の練習が楽しみでしょう

I got a lot out of my study of Japanese even though I never really achieved much mastery of the spoken language. I really enjoyed the mystique of a language based upon a completely different set of glyphs and grammatical constructs. At the center of my enjoyment was a fascination with kanji. To me, these characters are miniature, self-contained works of art. They usually carry all kinds of additional interesting information beyond meaning and pronunciation. And since there are 1,881 of them, with at least several hundred common enough that you can't expect to read much Japanese without knowing them, learning to read and write them certainly exercises the memory. At one time, I had a minor obsession with acquiring the muscle memory to be able to make the strokes in the right order and in just the right relative positions.

But I no longer study or practice Japanese at all. I gave it up without much of an attempt to make time for it. Now I find myself a bit regretful that I allowed my Japanese to become so rusty. In fact, I am pretty much rusty in any number of disciplines in which I formerly exhibited at least some proficiency. I think that until recently, I had been content to chalk this up to having a career and other activities which occupied most of my attention and time, not leaving me much time to practice yesterday's skills. I also had this idea that it is generally understood that this rustiness is just something that happens the further away one gets from "school." But having actually stated these reasons and thought about them, I find they don't sit well. The fact that I didn't really try to make a little time to maintain any sort of academic study is disappointing -- even more so since I partly used my impression of other people's reasons for something I did to excuse myself. I'm not here to trash myself, but I think I can do better, especially when it comes to things I already know I enjoy.

If I don't bother to maintain and develop some of my knowledge, what was the point of my past effort to acquire it? And it's true I don't have time to study the way I did in college, but that doesn't mean I don't have any time at all. A little bit of practice or study will probably go a long way, and is a hell of a lot better than nothing.

Sorry Excuses: "Not enough time." "People don't stay in school forever, and their skills just get rusty."
Verdict: lazy and bad attitude
Prognosis: Pretty good. I think I have to convince myself that starting more or less at the beginning is okay if that's what I have to do -- and remind myself there's a way to have fun doing this. Time is a legitimate concern, so making just a modest commitment at first is probably best.

Tang-go Already

I really love Argentine Tango. It's right up there with Aikido, yoga, ultimate frisbee and basketball in my pantheon of most loved physical activities. I felt an immediate affinity for it right from the start. Several friends have been avid tangoers, and one recommended it to me when I expressed interest in learning to dance. I shyly started with some free lessons, and eventually moved on to regular weekly classes. I felt that I had finally found a dance that I was really comfortable with, and the emphasis on movement originating from the core rather than the limbs was a very familiar concept from my Aikido instruction. I developed a great rapport with one of the teachers, and she always made me even more excited about how beautiful and expressive tango can be, even for an often clumsy clod such as myself.

At some point, though, I ended up hitting a wall in my progress. Without much warning, I had a sort of mental sea change, and the instruction seemed tiresome and frustrating instead of interesting and liberating. My mind became closed, I became tense and self-conscious, and it just stopped being fun. As far as tango was concerned, I reverted to an old mode from my past in which I succumbed to feelings that I had no business trying something like this. I became overwhelmed by difficulties my mind exaggerated or altogether made up. It wasn't long before I quit going. That was about a year and a half ago. From time to time, I considered going back, but for some reason felt as though I couldn't go just sometimes; I had to go sign up for lessons again and go regularly. So that was nice and convenient; I knew I would convince myself that I don't have time to go regularly, and from there it's an easy jump to, "You don't have to do that." So, yeah.

This is ridiculous. I love tango. There's no genuine reason I shouldn't be going, even just sometimes. Plus, a few years ago I promised myself I would really learn to dance, and I loved tango so much I decided that had to be it. All I had to do was occasionally -- ya know -- go dancing, and at least I'd be better than I am today. I obviously dropped that particular ball.

It's definitely time to pick up that ball, to re-inflate it, slather the SPF-30 on my pasty limbs and torso, and take that ball back out to the beach. Or maybe the bleachers at McCoy stadium -- coincidentally just around the corner from Providence Tango.

Yeah, sorry; that last bit was ridiculous. I think the warm weather has me dreaming some Summery thoughts of beaches and baseball stadiums.

Sorry Excuses: "I don't want to go." (Yeah, right.) "I would have to go all the time, and I don't have time to do that."
Verdict: scared and bad attitude
Prognosis: Very good. I can take the whole intro series over again at no charge, and there plenty of nights when I don't have much to do.

Providence Calling Nashville, Come in Nashville

This is just kind of a stupid one.  I've got several friends I plan on keeping for the rest of my life who are scattered to the four winds.  (At least four winds; more like six or eight, actually.)  I like writing letters, but that just doesn't seem to happen anymore (future post in that).  Seeing them all in person frequently enough would be cost prohibitive.  A phone call at least every few months seems to be the best and simplest option.  But sometimes, quite mysteriously, I put off these phone calls because of a mysterious anxiety -- and we're still just talking about a phone call here, for chrissakes.  When I finally get down to overpowering this very modest amount of anxiety and making one of these phone calls, the anxiety vanishes, anyway; I have a really nice experience reconnecting with someone I haven't seen or even spoken with in awhile.  It's the same as when someone invites me to a party, and I think about staying home instead, and then I go anyway and have a great time.

There are a couple of phone calls that are overdue.  One, in particular, is the most bothersome and kind of shameful.  A couple of years back, a good friend of mine moved to Nashville.  He was my main music buddy from high school, and very talented guitarist.  I am curious about what's going on in his life, how his music career is shaping up, and whether I'll have any chance to see him this year.  He has phoned me and sent me messages, and I haven't gotten back to him in many many months.  What an ass I end up being sometimes -- and this to a guy who I supposedly consider a friend.

Sorry Excuses: "What will we talk about?" "He'll be upset I didn't call sooner."
Verdict:  scared and lazy
Prognosis:  Excellent.  Phone in my hand right now.

A Lampshade on My Dresser

I mail things all the time -- usually a few times per month.  Priority boxies, media mail, letters, postcards -- yes, you might say I'm a mailing veteran.  But sometimes I've got something to mail, something just sitting on a table in my office or on my dresser or something.  It's something I want to send to someone.  But it just sits and sits.  It sits so damn long that I begin to think of it as part of my apartment's furnishings.  Maybe it's always been there.  Maybe it belongs there.  But it doesn't.  It belongs in a box in the damn mail.

I promised a friend, when she moved a few months back, that I would send along an item to her.  It was nothing particularly important, but just something she hadn't been able to find a spot for in either her luggage or her boxes, owing to its odd shape and somewhat delicate nature -- a lampshade of all things.  And so the lampshade sits on my dresser.  Recently it made it as far as my car, but I didn't get to the post office that week, so back I brought it inside my apartment so as not to risk damaging it.  On the dresser; not in a box, in the mail, on its way to its owner.  I apologize to the owner.

Sorry Excuses:  "I'll do it another time."
Verdict:  lazy and forgetful
Prognosis:  I know where the post office is, and I just need a box for it.  Just do it now.

Let Us Eat Delicious Muffins as We Make an Account of Unaccomplished Tasks and Clever Excuses

Once upon a time, I knew everything and Got Things Done.  I was idealistic and extreme and young and optimistic.  Plans were made.  Goals were set.  I knew my future was bright, and that there were Magic Milestones that would flip the secret switches and turn on the lights of happiness.

Even with all my confidence and optimism, I found that I often felt tense and stressed and unhappy.  I confidently proceeded anyway, feeling secure in my knowledge that Magic Milestones would arrive and Make Everything Awesome from then on.  Plus there would be delicious muffins.

But the Magic Milestones came and went; things were smooth for awhile in their wake, but the tension and stress and unhappiness would return.  And where were the muffins?

Clearly, the only thing to do after so long a period of such repeated disappointment was to briefly go insane -- at least for me it was.  It was ugly, but it was over surprisingly quickly.

From then on, I was determined to follow previously ignored advice to relax a little bit, maybe. I found this very agreeable.  I more or less renounced the Magic Milestone fallacy and all its spiritual forces of wickedness.  Things were simpler, clearer and less stressful.

And I learned to bake my own muffins:  lemon poppyseed; blueberry; raspberry lime.  Also cookies.  Maybe sometime soon I'll figure out cakes.

Somehow, though, I managed to discard a big chunk of my productive self.  I was less obsessed with getting things done, and I learned that sometimes I just had to miss deadlines, or had to let things slide.  But I somehow took this too far, and laid the foundation for ten years or so of growing sloth and lame-ass excuses for my ineffectuality.

There are a lot of things I haven't been getting done.  Not everything, but lots.

I have two dear friends who continually struggle with chronic health problems, and their energy level and ability to simply Get Things Done makes me feel useless and lame because I don't have any of those challenges.  All I've got is own inertia and so many excuses it's beginning to make me sick of myself.

I know I have an intrinsic drive to accomplish things, stay on top of my responsibilities.  All I need is to stop making excuses, do some things now.  This should be a reasonable goal for an adult.

This is my attempt to catalog some simple things that I supposedly have been going to do, figure out why I haven't done them, and shame myself into doing them.  In so doing, I hope to restore the parts of myself which were jettisoned because I accidentally conflated Getting Things Done with Being Too Uptight.

With this blog post, I've knocked off one thing that wasn't getting done:  re-initiating my online presence, attempting to engage with some other people out there who might be able to relate to me or provide a few useful insights or information.  That wasn't so hard.