Showing posts with label We're All Doomed Island. Show all posts
Showing posts with label We're All Doomed Island. Show all posts

Friday, May 31, 2019

Your Tour Guide Through Procrastination Mire

And on your right, you'll note Procrastination Mire. Never understood why anyone would want to wander around in there. Big, nasty, thorns that pierce dreams and determination alike. Insecurities and time sinks that'll take the legs clean off your projects. But people wander in there all the damned time and then wonder why they get lost. There are no maps, y'all. Soon as you think you got the Mire figured out, it rejiggers. All I can say is mind the signs. DO NOT ENTER.

But if ya do, there're a couple of features you gotta look out for. They'll sneak up on ya and that'll be the end.
  1. The Excuses Sands - this one comes with a bonus cause it's easy to get lost in excuses, right? Eh, not feelin' it, I'll do it later cause <insert excuse du jour>.  Presto. Ain't nothing happenin' but yer butt parked on a sofa mainlining six seasons of some shitty series you coulda written better. Fine, you say. You're a big deal adult. You'll master your excuses. That's real nice, ain't it? Now, you get hit with the bonus. Yer friends, family, and bystanders will start makin' those excuses FOR you. They'll pat you on the head and say, you've had a lot goin' on, poor dear. Whatever you do, don't agree. You read The Odyssey? Yeah, don't care if it was the Cliffnotes. You'll recall how Odysseus blocked sailors' ears so they could get past the sirens? That's you in the Excuses Sands. It's the only way out.
  2. Mastering the Mundane Sinkholes - the sinkholes are sneaky and they shift under yer feet. You'll think you got it all under control. Life. The universe. Everything. The answer ain't 42 in this case. The answer flexes and bends as you navigate around it. If you want out of the Procrastination Mire, yer gonna have to master the mundane. Do ya even know what that means? It means sleeping. It means exercising. It means eating yer greens and leaving the pastries in the damned they come in. No matter how sweetly they sing, potato chips ain't yer friends. Yeah, yeah, once in a while, sure. Monks don't get outta the Mire any faster than mere mortals. But ya get me, right? Ya can't neglect any part of the life that supports yer calling and still hope to get a lick of anything done. It's seductive, though, ain't it? Cause you just know that shaky ground can support your weight for awhile - and you can neglect yer support structures for awhile and pull all-nighters. But there's always a price tag. Sometimes, that price tag is everything (or possibly you) collapsing around ya. Due diligence. Balance your fool checkbook. Patch the roof. It's easier to pay attention to your project when you ain't living in a cardboard box letting the rain in on yer head.
  3. The We're All Doomed Island - Aw. This one. It's the only solid land fer miles around and it sits dead center of this danged swamp. Ya scramble up on its shores, dirty, tired, and half drowned. Ya can't leave. Where ya gonna go? You'll just sink again if ya step one toe off and wasn't that a gator that just swam past? So ya sit there, hopeless. Helpless. This one ain't no joke. It's dangerous. Flat dangerous. People die here. The only way out is to get off that island. Don't matter how. There are no maps, mind, but there IS help. Talk. Ask for help. Sing. Dance. Learn something new. Don't matter what. What matters is getting yer brain workin' for ya rather than against ya. Ain't easy, but it can be done and if ya can get that done, you'll figure that someone afore you worked out a way to harness that there gator and ride it far away from We're All Doomed Island and straight out of The Procrastination Mire. 
Now. If you look to the left side of the swamp buggy, you'll get a gander of I'm Not Good Enough Canyon. . .