This is my bear, Snowball.
My dad gave him to me when I was born. I can’t remember when I named him, or when I decided he was a “he.” He’s survived three hotel “left-behinds,” slobbery babies (la’M I’m looking at you), being a pillow for my entire year in England, and boomer. Even though his nose is worn from pink to green, he’s going strong.
He is not, however, the “snowball” topic of the day.
Today I was crushed by an avalanche of wasted time. Splayed beneath obligations un-met, goals un-progressed, and a bone-deep weariness, I cancelled my fun for the day (which holds a place of honor in my top three commitments) and skipped CrossFit. Hit by a one- two- punch of CRDR procrastination and unprepared-tutor guilt, I believed some time to reflect upon the dizzying weight upon me would help illuminate a tunnel back to sunlight and easy breathing.
I spend far too much time on the Internet. The TV is my named nemesis but the Internet has always been my amorous flame. I can rationalize the time I spend browsing in seven dimensions at least, from “I’m learning about mobility” to “I’m being inspired by the ridiculously good-looking superhero cartoons that are actually real aka Christmas Abbott and Andrea Ager” to “which dessert should I make next even though three-quarters of my day is spent thinking about how to be a better athlete which is clearly in conflict with consuming copious amounts of dessert which is inevitable when I make dessert .” Actually I just continually refresh Facebook (while bemoaning the stupid people on it and pitifully wishing the people-with-whom-I-crave-real-friendship would post) and incessantly check gmail. Writing this post has taken me two hours instead of a reasonable half; why? Because I was looking at other people’s Whole30 results and other people’s WOD times and reading other people’s blogs. Luckily, the dismal fog I felt today corrected my perception of the beguiling beast; I do not like who I am when I give myself to the Internet, so it shall no longer have my precious time. This may take practice, but every worthwhile habit does.
Procrastination snowballs. Internet-browsing snowballs. But doing well also snowballs and so does working hard and being a good person and living as one should live. So there’s hope.
Frankly, if I don’t pull my act together, only a snowman will let me near him with a scalpel in my hands. He wouldn’t really have a choice in the matter.
Buckle down sweetpea. It’s time to be awesome. (First, sleep.)