Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Beginning  §

© 2002 Aron Hsiao

Is procrastination somehow tied to place? Stupid question. Of course it is. To environment. To context.

The hardest part of getting work on any particular single project done is starting. Once you manage to start, you’re sort of locked in—you can make good progress and the hours fly by. But getting started without needing tons of “prep work” or “prep time” and without getting diverted to other projects is often difficult as hell.

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Thing is, I had this licked in New York. Though I grew up in a family of procrastinators, in New York I was able to simply identify what I was working on and go most of the time. Sit down, decide, go, work until time is up.

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In Utah, things are different. Once again I struggle to get going. I feel the pull of a thousand different projects and needs. Prioritization is difficult and stressful. Often things that I want to get done today don’t get done by the end of today.

There are times when I do manage to get started, on the right thing, at the right time, and then I feel relieved that work is getting done.

But it is not nearly as effortless or decisive as it was in New York.

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Is it mostly the place, or is it mostly me? Or is this a stupid and artificial distinction, since as me I am always embedded in a place?

It’s true that the pace of life is slower here, and that there are a great many more houshold tasks to attend to. This is both a function of having two children (and we didn’t have any for most of our time in New York) and a function of now having an entire house and front and back yards (but no building super or groundskeeper).

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And yet, despite these differences that seem as though they explain everything, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m still less efficient here than I ought to be.

Is it a matter of my not being able to adjust to the place?

Remaining distraction from the transition?

General cultural and habitual compatibility?

I don’t know.

Maybe I’ll never know.

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What I do know is that I’m often frustrated here, and that on the rare day on which everything goes more or less according to work-plan, I feel as though it ought to be easily repeatable tomorrow, but as often as not, I secretly know that it probably won’t be.