Today I made some delicious smoked pork hocks. I gave the bones and the fatty parts to the dog, and then sat down at my dining room table.
My dining room table was littered with petition crap: outlined cases, notes, the bluebook and copies of the bluebook exercise… pens, highlighters, coffee mugs…
I sat there , staring blankly at the petition mess when I heard a little voice inside me say:
Little voice: “Fuck, this, shit.”
I then spent the next ten minutes chewing pork and thinking about what this1 meant:
Me: “Is this a fail whale situation? What does this say about my wherewithal? My priorities? Does this make the past week a huge waste of time? Can I just stick it out for the next few days?”
Little voice: “No. I’m quite serious. Fuck this shit.”
Me: “But what about all this time I invested in this?”
Little voice: “Is that how we make economic decisions? Time invested is not a reason to keep on with a bad decision. We are not GNC okay?”
Me: “But …what about my priorities?”
Little voice: “Exactly, asshole. What about your priorities? Since when was petitioning one of them? What about project x, y, and z? Hm? “Oh we will get to that during summer” you said. Well, it’s summer, and you’re petitioning. What about all those other things you wanted to do? Hm? Is being on a journal more important? (Mimicking Jillian Michaels) NO IT IS NOT! Fuck this shit.”
Me: “Well…but…”
Little voice: “But nothing. You have other things to work on. You even took off work to do this petition. That’s unacceptable. Fuck this shit. Say it with me now! Now go get started on those neglected-projects. NOW.”
Ugh. So I finished my pork, tossed my petition, and started my summer.2
1 “This” being the decision to stop petitioning, not the fact that I was having an inner monologue…way past questioning that.
2 Quitting something unimportant doesn’t feel like quitting at all…