So of the three interviews we were supposed to have done before Tuesday, so far, I’ve got…. None. Zero. Not a single person.
So needless to say, this isn’t going great. It sucks, because I was actually more productive today than I have been in weeks, yet I’m still disappointed in my work because I’m still behind on schedule.
I know, the world’s a total shitshow right now so no one will blame me for not being able to stick to the normal daily routine, but I do blame me. It’s ironic how my bad mental health is getting in the way of writing an essay about mental health. Hell, I got an email from Fontys about classes on staying motivated and on how to stop procrastinating and I didn’t even have the motivation to actually sign up (but maybe I will tomorrow, who knows).
It’s not even that I’m doing so bad at the moment because I’m actually quite alright, but that’s just because I’m keeping myself distracted. The funny thing is that this is exactly what I want to explain (or you know, try to find out) in the essay I’ve been avoiding. Why is it that we need these little things to distract us from all the big, scary stuff going on in our lives? Why is it we have this insatiable need to keep ourselves busy? It’s like we’re too afraid to be alone with our thoughts, or maybe too scared about the finiteness of our time here on earth, maybe the idea of mortality forces us to think that we have a purpose to live every second to the fullest. Maybe that’s why just sitting and just being isn’t enough, we need to do this and do that and talk to them and go there. We don’t have enough time to let any second go to waste. But keeping ourselves busy like that is just making us lose track of what’s really important. Surely I can paint tomorrow, that’ll make me happy for a while, but five years from now, I’ll look back on this time and wish I had spent more time hitting the books. I might be proud of that painting tomorrow, but I’ll feel even happier if I like don’t fail this year.
Thinking about this reminds me of Bentham’s hedonic calculus. Bentham (whose first name is Jeremy according to Google, and I must say that name feels way too young and modern for a man who died in 1832) divided happiness into categories to calculate its worth. Important things to look at were how long the happiness would last, how intense it was, how pure it was and so on. That being said, me graduating and getting the hell out of this place (no offense) is definitely a more important kind of happiness than the short-term happy feeling of spending the day painting. So, if I know what to do, what’s holding me back? Why can I still not focus on what it is I want and need to do?
Luca's Nimbin experience 