torsdag 26 januari 2012

The fourth thing you didn't know about me

I must admit that I've become increasingly bad at concentrating.

Talk about procrastination all you want, but in my case it's all because of my decreasing concentration. It's at the stage now when I find it more than just plain annoying. Somedays it's downright scary.

My Mom says that when young people start complaining about "bad memory" it's okay, because your somehow allowed to be forgetful when you're younger. And she also says that when you get your age, you start to get increasingly paranoid about your memory, to such an extent that you can never immediately admit that you've forgotten something due to your "bad memory". The ghost of Alzheimer's, anyone?

But about me. And concentration.

It's like your head just keeps on presenting you with other thoughts, while your desperately trying to solve the current task at hand. And no, it's not like

"hmm... while this task is currently doing this, I can go and do this". (hint: think laundry)

It's more like

"hmm, I suppose I could check if Wikipedia has a decent enough article about resurrection fern because it's such a cool organism while I'm writing this email to my dance instructor about times and checking my calender if I could visit my parents perhaps next week and order train tickets in advance and oh holy moley! my tea really steeped totally too long and now it's black and undrinkable and I'll have to put on more water for more and then phone Mom...."

That way, nothing really gets done. And it's exhausting, I tell you, trying to fight it. You look totally sane, but your mind is completely buzzing.

The only time I didn't have to fight it was that one time I took one extra tablet of the pills I used to take against an oncoming panic attack. My mind was... blissfully quiet. Of course, afterwards I couldn't admit that to Micke, because he thought I was behaving like something had gone bodysnatcher on me.


2 kommentarer:

Waenthoronien sa...

I totally recognize myself there. It's scary (not the fact that I recognize myself, but that I find it so hard to concentrate). Just throw in a bit of Zynga games too and I have no chance. Especially that tea-part at the end of every confused thought process... Blargh. I suppose that's why I write lists (or normally write lists; lately, while I've been too tired to really do anything properly, they've only irritated me because all they've done is show my how little I've actually managed to do...).

Linnea Grönstrand sa...

The obvious PINK elephant here is:

Does this mean we are stimulated enough by what we do?


Aren't we stimulated enough by what we do?

Or is our poor brains just singing on the top of their endocrine system "I can't get no... satisfaction!"


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