When I was a child, I was quite cognizant of exactly who had the right to tell me how to behave. If an adult gave me instructions, they were to be followed. My mother insisted we (my brother and I) were going to be well behaved children. For the most part, we were.
Now, I am an adult. I still crave direction. I don’t like ambiguity. If you have certain expectations of me, I need to know what they are. It is that simple. I tend to defer to whomever appears to be in charge. It just seems like respect to me.
As a professional, you have to be somewhat self directed and regulate your behavior independently. This is a lot of responsibility. I think this skill is honed somewhat in college. You are given a well- defined list of expectations (syllabus) and then it is up to you to meet your obligations. You develop time management skills, and learn that you can no longer wait until the last minute to do a semester’s worth of work. Oh. Wait. No, I did not learn that. I spent all semester agonizing over what I had to do, and then 12 hours before the due date I would finally sit down and try to assimilate the information into something coherent.
All the planning in the world, and I still rush through every thing. I wonder if this is a common problem. I try to keep up with every thing, and I have the best of intentions. I still wait. Where does the time go? Oh, well yeah. I stopped working and watched that infomercial. I found a blank piece of paper which was oddly lonely and wanting some doodles.
I wake up hours before I have to leave every day. I have to have time to waste. It takes me forever to get ready. Right now, my hair is dripping wet, and I am partially dressed and partially back in my PJs. Why couldn’t I just finish getting ready? Well, I decided to write about wasting time. I am wasting time writing about wasting time. Can I label this behavior productivity?
I start a book, which reminds me of another book I wanted to read so I go off to find the other book. Oh, look there is a stack of mail to go through. I make piles of mail. Not sure what each pile means. I convince myself I am sorting it out. Stick the mail in various spots around the house. So I can find it later. When I stumble across these random stacks of mail…. sometimes 6 months later, I am not sure why I kept it.
Oh, I was reading a book. Pick up magazine and thumb through it. I dogear articles I want to read later. If I were smart, I would just read it real quick. I spend so much time preparing to do things. It is a struggle.
Oh. Crap. I need to go fix my hair. I pin up the top and start to work on the bottom half. Oh! I need to check Facebook. I have 300 emails. Start going through them. I should save that one to look at when I have more time. I need to drink some water. Walk into the kitchen, and see that I need to do some dishes. Start the dishes. My hair! I have to fix my hair. I wonder if the cats have been fed. Wander into the other room to check the cat bowl. Get distracted on the way by a Target bag. What is in here? OH! Socks. I love socks.
I now have ten minutes to get ready for work. Ponytail it is.
I need a nanny. Maybe a house husband. What was this post supposed to be about? Oh. Who is the boss of me? Unfortunately, me.
This is just a sample of what my mornings are like. The struggle is real. I did read an article about the cartel digging tunnels. I want to read more about that. Oh… I want one of those miniature foxes. Are these earthquake people right? I should go visit Seattle before it is washed away.
ADD and me. It is always entertaining. Squirrel.