Hello. I am Pierce. I’ve been away. Doing what? Living out and piloting another idea for this procrastinator diary post. That’s my modus operandi. Have an idea. Go away. Leave. Disappear. Not write. Not write. Again, not write. Be left in peace with my procrastination. So, I can play out my ideas. Put it in action. Do some experiments. Come back. And, write.
Here is what I found during my time away. That, ironically, my isolated time spent alone has not been very productive. There was no urgency. There were no other set of eyes. There were no threats of evaluation, feedback, or witnesses to give evidence that I was living. Nobody noticed. Honey, telling people what I did during the day does not have the same effect as showing them directly what I do as they watch me.
This result and realization surprised me. I didn’t know. Look at me. I’m ashamed. I’m not as tough, insensitive, nor oblivious as I thought I was. Look at me. I’m writing. I’m working. Look at me. I need you. It’s so hard for me to say, but it is. God, I need people.
Is it so that I am not as intrinsically motivated as I thought? Funny. During this time away, I got more accomplished in two hours in the evening with all kinds of people buzzing around in the home and not much done during 8 hours of silence during the day. Is it the people I need or the sense that time is running out in the day?
Maybe I do need the pressure. Both with time and with people. So, for my next hiatus, can I test this out by throwing myself into an audience at every opportunity? Have an open house accompany me wherever I go?
However, if I end up getting the eventual stage fright, and don’t go through with this, procrastinators of course always have a backup plan to avoid being thrown into the social fire.
I’m already hard at work conjuring up which imaginary eyes to permanently engrave into my mind, so that daggers threaten to rain upon me at my every move. And just in case my imagination fails me, I’ve been drawing numerous eyes so intense that they need not other bodily features to disclose the identities they have provided for eternal history. These eyes ranging from all time will be placed all over my wall in case I try to waste my life again. On one upper corner example, from Zeus to Sisyphus to Medea to Kafka to Plath to Thurber. With these eyes giving me attention, how dare I not take risks to go deeper!