When I get to work in the morning, I check my email and my voicemail. Adorably my voicemail usually has one or two hangups (as do we all). Those of you who feel a little nervous about speaking to my voicemail – you need to get over it – I don’t know who you are or what you want if you don’t tell me. And you know me, there’s no guarantee that I’d do anything even if I did get the message.
I get between twenty and forty emails daily. Many of which are of the “Cheap Rolexes!” or “V1-agra without a prescription!” variety. Occasionally, I’ll stop to admire an amusing pseudonym; Ratchet A. Twine or Prakesh Digweed will want to sell me a Tag Heur or supply me with Canadian C1-alis, but dammit, at least those guys have memorable monikers, they deserve a moment of my precious time.
By now, twenty-minutes have elapsed and I still haven’t really started work.
That’s Procrastination. (See where this is going, now?)
By the way, Boss, if you’re reading this, I hope you understand that I am not really this work-shy fella Mr Trivia, I only play him in the Blogosphere.
Let’s not discuss the whys of Procrastination just yet. Let’s return to this with the full force of pop psychology after we’ve researched a few more episodes of Dr Phil. Let’s leave it for a while (y-e-e-e-s-s) and I’ll merely state for the record that I have been known to procrastinate.
Right now I am writing a script for a local awards ceremony; only I am not doing that at this very minute, because I am writing this blog entry. The script is half-done and I am afraid it might be half-baked. There are topical gags and snappy one-liners and all the bizzo one usually associates with the rather conservative world of award-show-humour. But is it funny?
Can’t tell. No man is an island nor an audience. I’ll let youse know in a couple of weeks how it all went down.
If I get around to it.
Elevate the Insignificant
Photograph is of the Unfinished Gate at Persepolis in modern-day Iran. It is provided courtesy of www.livius.org