do you ever feel like,
doing something yet not wanting to do it?
It’s not quite the same as sitting down on your chair and wanting to go get a cup of tea; of course I still want my cup of tea, but the thought of me getting up and hunting for that teabag makes me want to slump on my chair and deliberate life.
The first word that comes to mind is procrastination, that I’m spending 40 minutes thinking about getting it, and then not, and finally just doing it. Or I could be lazy, I just can’t be arsed to get up and go get it. So I just sit there and complain about why I’m not a witch like Hermione.
What if, it’s neither. I’m not procrastinating, or so I feel, if I were I would be delaying it to no end unless my life depends on it (quite like how I used to do my history essays, oops). Neither am I lazying about, I’ve got more important things to do, like conserving my energy to doing ‘actual’ work.
So no, not quite like wanting a cup of tea after I’ve slumped my lump arse on my ever-so-comfortable couch. I’ve been thinking of picking up a new hobby, but yet I’ve got so much unfinished crafts. Like, my bullet journal. I’ve drawn up nice, neat boxes intending to fill up with my idle activities. Like my nearly-non-existent German, in a desperate attempt to adopt bilingualism in my life, is at a standstill, I can’t remember the last time I braced my worksheets (though I remember my laws and rules of grammar – and important swear words).
Is there spontaneity in my madness? Am I mad for doing things out of spontaneous pleasure? Am I mad for discovering new short-lived hobbies that might turn into long-lived inspirations? Is this what they mean by ‘finding yourself’ in the world? If so, then I’m heading in the right direction.
There is a method to my madness, you know.
It shall continue.