Evidently, I don’t have it.
The only thing that can be said against being productive is that you are setting yourself for hell in the future. Just like hormones, inspiration is triggered by the negative feedback mechanism – only when your stores have been depleted will your body produce enough of the little buggers to last you until the next truckload of deadlines come in.
From a medical point of view, the negative feedback mechanism is a work of art – simple, efficient, without fuss. HOLY FUCKING PERFECTION. It’s unfortunate news if you work within the confines of a cubicle, at the beck and call of bosses who can spring you a deadline faster than you can say ‘weekend’.
Last week was a flurry of activity at work and massive points for me for foregoing my nightly reading habit and my weekend in lieu of overtime hours at the office. Following the premise above, it can be surmised that I am doing nothing this week, despite the lengthy to do list pasted on my desktop. Again.
(However, the boss’ wrath is certainly enough to send me back to work *typing nonsense on Word to make it look like I am working*)
On a totally unrelated note, two of my classmates from high school are celebrating their birthdays today. There are seven of us who celebrate our birthdays on September
and it seems that we all love porn. Our parents must have had a very busy December in 1985.
Can’t help it if life is on repeat mode, endless loop. Nothing new ever happens.