CrazyBusy

That pretty much describes my life. And the lives of all my other manic-happy friends (i.e. Maris' post). But sometimes, I don't want to be that way. Busy. I'm fine with that. Busy to me means being involved with the world, creating something bigger than yourself, or connecting with those who are important to you. Crazy. Well who really wants to be crazy?

So I'm reading the book CrazyBusy by Edward M. Hallowell. He's a phsychiatrist from Harvard. The first part of the book basically describes me, my friends, and pretty much everyone else I run into on a daily basis (with very few exceptions). I just started part two, which focuses on managing and dealing with this modern life. I tried one of the tactics of single-focusing, whereby I dedicated 100% of my conscious brain to working on my midterm. Started at 7, outlined for an hour, 5 min break to get water, wrote until 9:20, 20 minute break in between essays, and just finished at 10:20. A solid six pages of writing, most of which is pretty good. It needs to be polished, citations need to be added. But it's done, and that means I can fully enjoy my favorite band's show tomorrow night without worrying about staying up late to do my midterm.

I'm working right now on charting how I spend my time. Basically like the budget my mother keeps trying to get me to keep for my bank account. I'll report on the results of that in a few days. After more than ten years of being told to, "Do less." by a favorite friend of mine I'm going to see if I can.