Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task. ~William James

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Weed Reflections

I have spent a fair amount of time recently on my hands and knees.  Not praying, or begging.  Weeding.

Our backyard has been taken over by mustard garlic, burdock, deadly blooming nightshade, creeping charlie, thistles, nettles, dandelions, broadleaf, and other green and growing nuisances.  We are also plagued by upstart box elder seedlings--the devil to remove, due to the right-angled underground turn taken by their roots.

Working to reclaim this formerly habitable part of our property has sent my body into an almost permanent penitent position.  And then there are my dirt-caked nails, as soil has even penetrated my admittedly cheap gardening gloves. 

My mind, too, has assumed the position.  

To begin with, there is the guilt and confusion I feel as I wrestle with those unwanted fledglings.  How do I decide what stays, and what goes?  Do I let neighbors determine the composition of my landscape?  (Do I only imagine that they look askance at my dandelion spores wafting toward their perfect lawns?)  Do I adhere to the norms of the politically correct?  ("Mustard Garlic, invasive, bad.")  Do I consult the experts, with their lists of unwelcome species?

I have the easiest time with those varieties known to be dangerous to dogs and small grandchildren.  Nightshade and burdock, I pull with abandon.  But what about the creeping charlie, with its gingery smell and its sweet purple blossoms, which has volunteered to take over for my sketchy grass?  Why, again, do I want to preserve the stuff that requires constant mowing, and constant nagging about mowing?  

And on the other side of this yard maintenance divide are the pansies, begonias, roses, raspberries, mint, peonies, irises, forget-me-nots, mums, columbine, poppies, tulips, sedum, stella d'oro and other day lilies.  The plants I have introduced intentionally, and wish to keep.  Somehow, they thrive less happily than the so-called "weeds."  Perhaps this is how I should distinguish weeds from flowers, though that seems a bit pessimistic.

My mind is also occupied, as I yank and discard, with applying the metaphor to my life.  It comes to me that lots of what I do, and think about, grows like Topsy and threatens to take over my hours and my days.  And that much of it has crept in, uninvited by me.  And that many of the things I have chosen, and attempted to nurture, are not flourishing.
Like my novel, choked by the weeds of Wisconsin politics.  Losing its struggle for a dedicated patch of ground.

Tomorrow seems like a good day for more weeding. . . .

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Procrastinating 101: The Horror! The Horror!




















Dum da dum dum.  Or whatever sound means "impending doom" to you.  That's the appropriate lead-in to Chapter 6 of Piers Steel's The Procrastination Equation:  How to Stop Putting Things Off and Start Getting Stuff Done.


In this grimmest chapter yet, entitled "The Economic Cost of Procrastination:  How Businesses and Nations Lose," Dr. Steel builds on the dark ground of Chapter 5.  Here, the focus goes macro, and we are confronted with an estimated societal bill for our collective procrastination.  Dr. Steel highlights our losses in the areas of work-time frittered away, savings postponed, and political procrastination.  The most haunting instance of the latter is the blind official eye being turned to the increasingly imminent threat of "environmental depletion and destruction."

Using relatively conservative figures, Dr. Steel arrives at the somewhat stupefying number $1,264,1200,000,000  [sic], which represents the value of time lost annually in the U.S. as a result of employees procrastinating on the job.  He goes on to detail some of what "workers" are doing, instead of working.  The list includes "video snacking," visiting pornographic sites, social networking, game playing, and excessive--and disruptive--email checking.  Some of us make use of technology to hide our technological abuses, like a "Boss Key," which allows the dawdler to quickly switch the screen to feign legitimate activity should said boss poke his pointy little head into one's cubicle. 

Dr. Steel's discussion of procrastination related to retirement savings essentially drills down on the previous chapter's mention of compound interest--which, he reminds us, Einstein "called the eighth wonder of the world."  Dr. Steel provides a dismal portrait of how the average American shoots him/herself in the financial foot on which the "golden years" must stand, by failing to save in time for this eventuality.  This fiduciary profligacy is "compounded," but not in a good way, by the host of other bad decisions these financial grasshoppers are likely to make.  Like signing up for variable rate mortgages; borrowing against houses and meager retirement funds; and relying on "pay day" loans, which can expose the borrower to annual interest rates of more than 500 percent.

Steel does hint at how such individual financial procrastination, in the aggregate, affects the economy as a whole, in this statement:  "Furthermore, since the dollars you save are invested, savings can help the nation as a whole, spurring economic expansion."  

However, I would be interested in seeing this relationship explored more deeply.  Clearly, the way so many of us mishandle our money, partly as a result of procrastination (though perhaps more as a result of mechanisms of capitalism), has repercussions for the health of our own economy, and globally--something demonstrated all too painfully in recent years.  And it is noteworthy that many who did not put off saving for retirement have found themselves, nevertheless, woefully under resourced at the planned-for end of their working lives, thanks to Enron, 401-K collapses, and pension defaults.  A diminishing sense of investment efficacy, along with a tendency to put off preparations, may be at work in the decline in savings, and in saving.

In his section on political procrastination, Dr. Steel reports some horrifying projections of what begins to read like an ecological apocalypse.  By the year 2050, an anticipated three-degree increase in temperature is expected to have a "mutilating" effect on the planet.
No matter what country you are in, there won't be any place that will truly benefit from this change.  Entire ecosystems, like the Amazon rainforest, are expected to collapse, about a third of all animals and plants will become extinct, and billions of famine refugees will fight to determine who starves to death first.

In the context of this urgent issue, the likelihood that our political institutions will continue to drag their feet leaves little room for hope.

But Dr. Steel finds some, in, oddly, bicameralism--which is intended to force legislatures to act more deliberately, and theoretically, less impulsively in the face of serious issues having long-term ramifications; in the growing policy role of behavioral economics; and in Obama's rhetoric about our need "to confront problems, not to pass them on to future presidents and future generations."  And yet, similar language, which urges us to stop "kicking the can [of public debt] down the road" to our children, is being used in my state to justify actions that will further enrich the privileged and increase the suffering of the vulnerable.

The stops on this week's post-industrial tour added to last week's panorama of personal devastation bring two things to mind.  One is the happy little industry of Katrina tours still extant in my second home of New Orleans.  The other is a quote from Winston Churchill, which has rearranged itself in my head thusly:

We shall go on to the end; we shall [procrastinate] in France,
we shall [procrastinate] on the seas and oceans,
we shall [procrastinate] with growing [consequences] and growing [slothfulness] in the air. . . .
we shall [procrastinate] on_ the beaches,
we shall [procrastinate] on the landing grounds,
we shall [procrastinate] in the fields and in the streets,
we shall [procrastinate] in the hills;
we shall never [catch up].

I am looking forward to Dr. Steel's next chapter, on "Optimizing Optimism," in which he promises to begin showing us the way out of the morass he has so persuasively depicted.    

Done for the Week: Getting Into Getting Out of Stuff

For the first time since I started this Done for the Week feature, I am a day late (if not a dollar short) in posting it.  I may have some fine-tuning to do on this whole laying back thing.

I am still, however, getting some things finished, of the many that matter to me.

Done for the Week:  June 20-26, 2011
  1. Completed Week 7 of 15-week triathlon training program; ran twice; biked twice; swam twice
  2. Swam once, ran once with my training partner 
  3. Got my son to the gym with me once
  4. Finished Motherless Brooklyn, by Jonathan Lethem
  5. Attended 2 yoga classes
  6. Participated in final interviews for organizer position 
  7. Participated in hiring decision
  8. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
  9. Planted orphaned begonia
  10. Put in backyard sandbox
  11. Cut back summer blogging schedule
  12. Stepped further back from organizational overcommitment
  13. Blew off a couple of meetings 
  14. Published 4 blog posts 
  15. Meditated 2 times
  16. Had lunch date with my husband
  17. Went to Happy Hour with my husband
  18. Watched two episodes of Treme with my husband
  19. Took care of my out-of-town daughter's dog and house, days 3 through 9 of 11
  20. Got various family members, including our dog, to walk temporary foster dog with me
  21. Met again with major new website client
  22. Went out driving with learning teenager several times 
  23. Participated in driving my not-quite-licensed-to-drive son to his job
  24. Volunteered with recall campaign
  25. Continued spending time on, and making progress with, yard recovery project
  26. Spent time outside in my swing, reading and relaxing
  27. Continued supporting my 20-year-old in his return to the academic environment
  28. Made progress in cleaning/straightening/decluttering work room, bedroom & kitchen


Last week's most important accomplishment, in the opinion of this overworked and under rested blogger,
was the jettisoning of some items that have been clogging my agenda of late--this was by way of embracing summer, and its legendary opportunities to sit quietly on the planet and revel in its glories.  Now if I can just keep myself from indulging my busy-ness tic and signing up for replacement obligations, I may begin to recover some much-needed energy.

My focus goal for last week was to begin to declutter our house, and to involve my housemates in the excavation.  The plan was to start with the kitchen, my work room, and our bedroom.  As you can see, in green above, I did make some progress on this goal.  But I am almost always (my family would say always) too ambitious.  Our nest has been neglected for too long, and by too many of us, to be rewoven in a week.  Or two.  Or three.  So I am extending this focus goal at least into next week.  After I have unearthed a modicum of surface space, I intend to fight the impulse to move on, until the hordes of stuff have retreated significantly.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Taking Time for Summer

One take on chronic procrastination might be to redefine our to-do lists to reflect what we're actually likely to do.

Along those lines, I have observed in recent weeks that I am more likely to publish 3 or 4 blog posts per week, than I am to achieve my self-established standard of Monday through Friday, 5 posts a week blogging.

I have therefore decided to relax my blogging rule for the summer, and to aim for 3 to 4 posts each week.  This reflects more sensibly the time I have to give, what with two recall elections, one triathlon, and work for a major new web client vying for my energies.  It answers my "heart's desire" for a more leisurely pace than the one I've been keeping.  And it will instantly improve my rate of success, and transfuse my flagging self-esteem.

I may be, as some have suggested, a bit of a troglodyte.  But I savor memories of summertimes past, when life slowed, routines fell away, and there was time to read, to garden, and to play.  I am lucky enough to live in a house filled with books, with two well-stocked libraries nearby, just in case.  God knows my "garden," in a state of utter neglect, needs me.  And one of my favorite people in the world is three years old, and treasures his "long-Nana-days."

I trust the world will survive with one or two less bulletins a week from me, for the next couple of months.