Work It ~ Missy Elliott

The problem with road trips is that I think too much. I am, at heart, not a meditator. A thinker. I like to plunge and deal with consequences as they come. My mind too easily spins out of control. Thinking for me leads do inaction. Paralyzed by options and possible outcomes. 

Road trips inevitably lead to thinking. As Gaston so famously said, "Lafu I'm afraid I've been thinking - a dangerous pastime I know." 

Today I was having a text conversation with someone that for some reason, found me divulging things I don't generally divulge. That I skated, scammed, and cheated my way through high school. The notable exception being in any English class. The result was that by the time that I got to college, regardless of test scores that claimed I was capable of otherwise, I was so ill equipped to handle higher academia that I dropped out because it was less humiliating than failing out. Or taking that god-forsaken history class with the professor that looked like Dom De Luise one. more. time.  

Why did I keep taking the same history class over and over knowing that I had failed it previously? Because I knew I was smart enough to pass it if I could just make my lazy, undisciplined, failure self go to class regularly. Work harder. Work smarter. Be perfect. Or at least not be the mess I consistently seem(ed) to be. 

There is a post on this blog where I mention being filled with self-loathing. I talked to my dad after he read that post and he said, "I don't know why you would loathe yourself!" 

Why do any of God's creations loathe themselves?  Maybe it's because I still have not passed that stupid history class. Or that time I didn't capitalize the word English in an essay about why I wanted to be an English teacher. Or maybe it was all those times that I just could not force myself to do what I knew needed to be done. Or maybe it's my complete lack of desire to ever attend college again because I know that not one thing has changed in me. I still would skip class. And not do the assignments. And be ever more filled with self-loathing that for reasons I can not fathom, I can not make myself do that which I can not make myself do. 

At the end of my stint in college, I had an on-campus job that I loved. I realized that I, in general, loved working. I realized I was in school for my job and no other reason. That I would not have the job when I failed out. By this time I had stopped attending even the English classes, so lacking I was in self-discipline, motivation, clear thinking abilities, organization skills, time management, impulse control(the weather is beautiful, I will now drive the Great River Road! At this minute! At the expense of all else! And in the face of a million logical reasons not to do such a silly thing!). But I rarely missed work. 

And now I remember why I started divulging these things. My friend was telling me his ridiculous work schedule. A 14 hour day clung to him like a badge of honor. And I was jealous. Jealous that I was stuck in a car thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking. And he had been blissfully working and working and working. How I would prefer to work myself into oblivion! 

During the ending of my marriage there was no such thing as too much work. I would put in ten and twelve hour office days without batting an eye. I didn't care about the hour long commute. I took on a part-time job in addition to my full time one. I would change into my uniform for my second job in their cruddy bathroom because I had come directly from my first job. I didn't care if I got paid overtime. On some level, I probably did not care if I ever got paid at all.  I didn't care about anything but being swept away by my work. I wore those long days like badges of honor too. 

I work a lot less these days. I have not worked more than 30 hours in a week in almost a year now. Paid hours, anyway. I am trying to focus on volunteer work. It has been rough. Financially. But more than that. I am more than ever coming up against the same demons that drove me out of college. Poor self-discipline. No motivation. Easily distracted. Disorganized. Bad time management. Not enough work to keep me from thinking. Not enough structure that I feel compelled to at least put forth a pretense of "having it togetherness." If that makes sense.  


Right here, right now, I would absolutely kill to do nothing but work and work and work and work.

Have anything you need me to do?