At the beginning of the week, I was very focused and got a lot done. For instance, I'd start heating the water for my coffee and oatmeal, then while waiting for it to reach boiling, I put in my contacts, put on moisturizing sunblock, and got dressed. That gave me time to wash the dishes after breakfast and still be on time for work. It felt really good, like I really had my act together. When I got home after work, I didn't face a sink filled with soaking dishes. Instead, I could make some progress in straightening up and organizing for my guest, preparing items to be mailed back to the retailer, staying on top of the Week 10 readings, etc.
It didn't last long, though. Tuesday night I couldn't get internet reception at home, so I went to the library. Of course after walking all that distance (ha!) I had to muck around on the internet for 1.5 hours and check out three books (two Arsene Lupin books in French, one Alex Rider book in English). The French books do no harm; it's the English-language books that trip me up. I'm never tempted to spend hours reading ahead in a French novel, probably because it's not that relaxing (comprehension requires concentration).
But I couldn't stop myself from finishing the Alex Rider novel in a few long gulps. And it's not really that rewarding; there's not the deep pleasure of a master wordsmith's language and imagery, not the satisfaction of a truly gripping tale (I predicted the major plot twist very early on), and there's not even the excuse that it's educational for me. So the cost-benefit ratio is not so favorable... it is pretty much a naked exercise in procrastination.
What I've noticed is that once I give in to this sort of time-wasting urge, it gets harder and harder to resist any time-wasting activities at all, even when they are not bringing me huge doses of pleasure. (Sort of like bingeing on candy.) It's as if willpower is a muscle that needs to be exercised, and once you let it get out of shape, it keeps getting worse.
The thing is, I don't mind "wasting" time as long as it's enriching my life in some way -- if it's bringing me pleasure, or growth, or something. So I can sit around all day with someone I really care about, not accomplishing anything in particular, and I feel great. Or I can spend hours on a logic puzzle, or on polishing some piece of writing into a perfect gem, or walking in a botanical garden, or hiking from Point A to Point B just to enjoy the scenery... and I love it.
So the question is, why am I putting myself in a situation where I do neither what I ought, nor what I love? I remember someone my freshman year of college talking about that: She said that her grades were bad, but she wouldn't have minded if the reason was that she had a great social life. The thing that killed her was that she had nothing to show for that semester, no deeply meaningful relationships, and no academic success.
One of C.S. Lewis's Screwtape essays touches on this too: Damnation through petty selfish acts that are lost in the shuffle, incrementally, rather than through the big sins that can be a by-product of a life lived to the absolute fullest (and yet are all the more easily recognized and repented by a future saint who will then live life to the fullest for God).
Speaking of which, I'd better sign off or I'll be late for Game Night.
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