distraxion

[distraxion]

Day Two: Why I procrastinate

In order to motivate myself properly, I need to cement some routines and meaningful goals into my head, things that will inspire me, and not be too abstract or complex. I need to be able to routinise being successful, and for that idea of success to be realistic enough for me to commit to it. Also, it is proving very useful for my motivation to read up on the causes of procrastination.

In particular, I was interested to learn of the links between depression, dopamine regulation in the brain and procrastination. It might sound obvious that depressed people procrastinate, but it is not obvious that both can be linked to a chemical imbalance in the brain. That’s right, one might well be biologically predisposed to procrastinate. Which is crazy when you think about it. Like some people may be genetically more likely to commit suicide. Just crazy that we could evolve with such trip-switches in our biochemistry.

I digress. But it actually gives me hope to think that my procrastination, my lack of commitment and focus on things could potentially have neurological, even genetic origins. If it is true in my case, it would allow me to stop looking for a psychological cause in my life. The endless interrogation of self: why are you a failure, why can’t you do anything right? Etc.

In place of the self-doubt and loathing, I can say to myself: “it’s not your fault you have procrastinated in the past. It is the chemistry in your brain. And now you know that there is a specific tendency in you to waste time, get depressed, etc, you can do something about it. You can recognise the signs, and take action.

In the past I have taken action when I got depressed. Usually this would be exercising. I would go for a run, a cycle or play football. And it always seemed to work. Sometimes I would also seek friends out and go do something with them. Both these kinds of relief were short-lived, but it was a start. No drug lasts forever, and no thought in your head stays the same for ever.

Also, reading further, it is interesting to be able to break down procrastination into the types of procrastinating that I have done in the past:

Anxious procrastinating: being scared of making a mistake or receiving negative feedback

Perfection procrastinating: getting so worried about something being perfect, I delay sending out completed work

Overwhelm procrastinating: having so many tasks tat I have no idea where to start.

Depression procrastination: as mentioned previously, feeling so down, tired and unmotivated I can’t take action.

Last-minute procrastination: not being able to bring myself to start something until the very last minute.

Impulsive procrastination: when I keep putting off important tasks I need to complete because I keep giving to the impulse to do trivial things.

Hedonistic procrastination: when I delay important work to go and have fun, or do something appealing but valueless

Lazy procrastinator: Just not caring about long-term achievement. Accepting the easy way out of everything.

Full-of-excuses procrastinator: I continuously give myself excuses as to why I am not doing the most important work I can at any moment.

Daydreaming procrastination: I often fantasise about how successful I will be once I’ve accomplished everything.

For me, it is essential to break down my procrastination this way, to understand what it is I am dealing with. Doing this will give me a valuable tool to overcome it I.e. If I can identify the problem, then I can come up with a solution.

[distraxion]

Day One - Thinking About How to Get Better

Broken thread of my life. I start things, never to finish, because of course the enthusiasm, the drive is all in starting; once you start something the pressure is released. “Hey, at least I started, I’m better than some who never start.” But the truth is, if you don’t finish, then you never really started. You just acted like you did, to ease your worn conscience. This is what has been leading me astray all these years.

I’m an incredibly good starter. I’m amazing at coming up with new and interesting ideas. I’m great when I’m on the hunt for something. But finishing. No way. The worst in the world. I get all angsty and depressed if I even come close to finishing something. Because I know it won’t be anywhere near as good as I imagined. And there will be the necessary examination from other people. Invariably, whatever their level of friendship and support, they will question things, which make it not perfect. Your perfection frame that exists in your head, from you as creator to you as audience, is the only pure relationship you can ever have with an endeavour. It’s impossible to reach those highs of wholly positive feedback with another person. It’s akin to finding your soulmate.

So, how do I get more things done, if I can’t ever be happy with what gets finished? This is the meaning I have been looking for in life for pretty much as long as I can remember. Being ‘satisfied’ with something is really boring, the monotony of the middle, the 50-to-75 percenters, those who try, hard even, but they just don’t get it. Society’s superstructure are these people. Below 50 and you are special, in all the ways that word has meaning. You have a world of support and help out there to get you into or out of whatever is happening to you.

There are two tiers above these, of course. The first, the 75-to-95 percenters are where a lot of successful people are in today’s world. They use motivation strategies, they follow routines, they think carefully about what they are doing and follow through on it. And generally, their work, their efforts are what we look for as examples of high quality, skilled output. That’s where, I guess, one could legitimately sooth one’s conscience by saying “I’ve done well, I’m in an exclusive group of achieving individuals.” But is that it? Because this achievement level is generally the capacity of even smart people, should I be happy to make to 75% and above?

I honestly don’t know. I’ve always dreamed about being in the last group. The 95% plus group of individuals, of whom books are written about, or buildings are named after. The people whose names are a metaphor for extraordinary skill, talent, achievement. Is it too much of an ask to be a 50-to-75 percenter and dream of being 95% better at something than others? But what can take a person from average to extraordinary when the restrictions are so tied to their everyday life and social cues? Or is it all a fallacy, clever marketing by people who desire only to take money from you in exchange for one-size-fits-all motivation, platitudes and flavourless speeches and slogans?

For me to make a significant change in my life, I really have to come to terms with my own brain, how to feel something about what I’m doing, and how to get a genuine feeling of pleasure form completing things.

PS. To be clear I’m not quoting scripture here. I have no statistics, no big data to explain what I’m talking about, except that most educational establishments grade this way, most cultural and sociological analysis breaks down this way (I have a degree in Sociology and Cultural studies).

[distraxion]

That time I went to New York

Day 1 A beautiful, crisp summer’s morning greeted us as we left for Manchester Airport. So far everything seems to be going ok, despite the following teething problems: My flatmate’s OCD about electricity plugs and water taps. My insistence on getting the best possible exchange rate, despite the psychological cost of visiting 12 different bureaux de change. Our travel companions being an hour late to meet us. Annoying railway staff. Ticket machines that didn’t work. Super cheap and super bad coffee. My failure to remember I had a bike pump in my rucksack, which set off the security alarm. I am now relaxing in Cafe Ritazza, with better coffee and feeling very relaxed about flying. Almost like I don’t have a problem. They gave me a window seat at the back of the plane. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. If you live near Manchester Airport and you hear a high pitched scream around lunchtime... Reykjavik here we come!

Day 2

Sometimes feeling good is good enough. I’m writing at the end of what fees like a very long day. Reykjavik is a great place to be. It’s not somewhere that leaps out at you, like maybe London or Tokyo. In fact, our first explorations of the city left me feeling at least a little disappointed. It’s very expensive (£6-8 for a beer...). Everything closes early in the week. And you need transport to get around. But it’s quietly brilliant. There are parks and paths and places to cycle absolutely everywhere. All the cafes have books to read, friendly chatter and space to relax. The food is some of the best I’ve tasted. Everyone is sincerely polite and speaks great English. The air feels fresh and clean. And the surrounding landscapes are breathtaking. I have to say my favourite thing, though, are the thermal baths. The simple pleasure of swimming, playing and relaxing in geothermal-heated, open-air pools is not one that is easily forgotten. Thank you Iceland for helping me remember the simple things. Tomorrow we set out for New York...

Day 3 Just been for a quick run around Laugardalur valley, and just about to throw some breakfast down before we check out of the hotel and head to The Blue Lagoon for some more thermal pool action. From there, we will head to the airport for the next leg of our journey...New York. Not much I can say about New York that hasn’t already been said, written, filmed, sketched or sung about. Everything about the place seems to have been exquisitely documented at length: Its name changes, occupation by the British, acceptance of immigrants, economic boom (and bust) etc etc etc. It’s a metropolis - it is, in fact, the place that the film Metropolis was based upon. It’s the most populous place in the world, it’s the centre of the universe for so many things...my head is spinning just thinking about it. I’ve spoken to lots of people about their experiences of New York. Their praise of the place is almost universal. It’s rare that you can speak to a dozen people and no-one has anything bad to say about the place. Almost makes one suspicious...

Day 4 Friday morning, somewhere in Midtown Manhattan. The sun is shining. The day is full of potential. With the exception of a death-defying taxi ride from JFK, everything in New York has been plain sailing. Yet it all feels a little dreamlike. I think I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that it’s all real. Each street feels like it’s been teleported straight from a film or TV show; new and yet eerily familiar. The names trip off the tongue like a pop cultural roll call: Madison Avenue, Lexington Avenue, 42nd Street, Broadway, Park Avenue. Everywhere I walk I’m bowled over by the sheer scale and weight of things to see and to do. In New York it seems everything is to be eaten, worn or photographed...

Day 5 I always thought Hell's Kitchen was a fantastic name for a place. And now I'm here, I can report it's anything but hellish (status of evil kitchen as yet unknown). So, another day in the USA. Saturday mornings in New York seem to have a much more relaxed vibe. When the weather is good they lend themselves to casual ambling and gawking. I have been taking full advantage. The first stop was 28th Street, to watch some football and meet the New York Whites, a Leeds United supporters club. All six of them. Next a walk through the Flower District. I thought this was just a random name given to the area, but no, it really is the flower district. Everywhere you look huge displays of colour line the sidewalks and fill up the shop windows. After a further bit of perambulation, I made it to the flea market in Hell's Kitchen. There are some real characters here and the whole thing is pretty good fun, except that I was hoping for more vintage men's clothing. Nothing says style like a crappy, old American T-Shirt. This afternoon I've signed up to do a tour of filming locations for The Sopranos in New York and New Jersey (or Noo Joyseee depending on who you ask). And this evening...well I do have a list of The Guardian's Ten Favourite bars to visit whilst in New York. Be rude not to... 

Day 6 WARNING...OVERLOAD...WARNING...OVERLOAD. I'm not sure I can cope with it all. I need a holiday from my holiday. The Sopranos tour was (mostly) excellent, ending up at The Bada Bing to watch some 'erotic' dancing. We even met one of the cast (Vito), although the shine was taken off with the fact he was hawking books and photos out of the back of his car. No shame that man. Went to a load of bars last night and feel much worse for it today. My favourites were a Chinese Karaoke bar called Winnie's and a Lower East Side bar called Beauty and Essex. I'm heading out now to conquer Central Park, and several of the Museums. At some point this headache will ease up. I hope...

Day 7 Another early start, partly due to a confused body clock, partly due to the fact that we have to check out of the hotel. Our last day in New York, and probably the longest day of all in terms of travelling/lack of sleep etc.  Still so many things left to do. I think next time two weeks might be a more adequate timeframe to fit everything into... Central Park lived up to expectations. A real oasis in all the New York craziness. And that’s just the park itself. The Dakota Building, Strawberry Fields, The Museum of Natural History, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Central Park Zoo, three different sculptures (Balto, Alice in Wonderland and the Obelisk), the Reservoir, the Pond, The Pulitzer Fountain, Ai Weiwei's “Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads”, FAO Schwartz... I managed to get round all of these and still miss about twenty other things in the process. Oh, and I had a trip to Roosevelt Island on the cable car, for some unique views of the city and East River. Last night we had a meal on the Lower East Side and I took a walk down St. Mark’s Place. It seems to be a really cool area for bars, live music and shopping. I even managed to find a secret bar called Please Don’t Tell, hidden in a Hot Dog eatery, and only accessible via a phone booth. You have to pick up the phone, dial a number, then a secret door opens and someone lets you in. Class. Today I’ve got to make some decisions about how best to use the remaining time. I’m interested in going on the Staten Island Ferry, and having a look at the White Horse Tavern/Chelsea Hotel, where Dylan Thomas drank and indeed breathed his last. Later I hope to scoot around the Museum of Modern Art, and possibly get in a few farewell drinks at a bar above Grand Central Station.

Day 8 Ah, England, home of the grey sky and the ignorant fuck. I'm just kidding with you. It actually felt really good to touch down on home soil and experience a more familiar pace of life. Manchester feels deserted by comparison with New York. By the time I got to bed, accepting time differences and whatnot, it had been 29 hours since I left the last one on Lexington Avenue. I'm still trying to piece together everything I managed to see during that time. Sleep deprivation affects the parietal lobes as well as the memory. Experiences and the order they came in are confused. I remember...The World Trade Center, Greenwich Village, Dylan Thomas, The Chelsea Hotel...2001: A Space Odyssey...Madison Square Gardens...Museum of Sex...Broadway...MoMA...Andy Warhol...Wassily Kandinsky...The Campbell Apartment...zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Postscript: Zhuangzi dreamed he was a butterfly Back to Earth with a bump. Today I did the zombie walk to work and spent quite a lot of it staring off into space. Coming to terms with it all. So much fun, so much freedom, now very much a fading memory. Trying to make up my mind whether the holiday was a dream and this is harsh reality, or this is a dream and any minute now I’ll wake...up...back...in Crazytown?

[distraxion]

Streets of Antiquity

What was once San Pedro Heights, and the oldest barrio in the capital, San Telmo takes its name from the patron saint of sailors, who along with dockworkers and bricklayers, were the area’s first inhabitants. This one of the oldest areas of Buenos Aires, and it is saturated with history; from the old iron tram tracks that cut up and down the cobblestone streets, to the dusty antiquities that sit regally in display cabinets up and down Calle Defensa. Once, the continent’s first trams brought workers and visitors from the port into town, where they would wander up and down streets lit with Argentina’s first electric street lights. Now, however, it’s more than likely to be an Uber bringing affluent tourists from Palermo or Recoleta into the narrow, uneven avenues between the colourful colonial buildings.

Tourists of San Telmo talk about its many flavours, whether those be literal or cultural. There are over 100 restaurants alone in San Telmo Market and the surrounding streets, with everything from the Eastern European delights of CCCP (a Russian restaurant), to the more traditional menu of Desnivel, via China, Mexico and even Denmark (the aptly named Valhalla even shows episodes of the Netflix series ‘Vikings’ every evening). Every street has a cafe or bar in which you can watch the world go by and take a bite to eat whatever the time of day or night. Locals (self-labelled Porteños) don’t siesta here like they do elsewhere in Argentina, and the national habit is to eat dinner really, really late (until 1 and 2am on the weekends). Plenty of time to squeeze in a few extra calories ahead of a night of dancing and revelry.

If San Telmo Mercado is the culinary centre of this neighbourhood, then Plaza Dorrego is its cultural heart. The locale buzzes with music and tango seven days a week from lunchtime until well into the early hours. And if you venture into adjacent streets, there are a plethora of things to see and do. The Mercedes Sosa Cultural Centre, for example, has a full calendar of art exhibitions and dance events. Torquato Tasso, a well-regarded live events venue facing onto Parque Lezama, hosts internationally renowned musicians. The split-level park is also where you can find the city’s National History Museum.

All that sightseeing may leave you in need of a drink, in which case this neighbourhood can satisfy the thirstiest of visitors. There are places to suit all tastes and styles. For the younger crowd, bars like Calypso Cafe, La Puerta Roja or Atom are fantastic fun to meet friends, listen to music and drink until dawn. For those who like something different, try Macabras Cine Bar, who show films all night, or Garage Bar, built in an Americana style, complete with a full-size Chrysler Roadster. And there’s even a bonafide English Pub on Calle Peru to catch Premier League games on the TV and shoot some pool.

As a destination to visit for the day, or the night, San Telmo is a great counterpoint to the sophistication of Palermo. Every day of the week, and especially on Sunday, you can find a huge variety of things happening all over the barrio. And for those who can’t get enough of the local charm, a wide variety of hotels, hostels and apartments can be booked for as little as $10 a night year-round.