This week my distraction came in the form of extreme anxiety about my impending summer break.

I feel as though for most people, summer break is something fun and exciting to look forward to. For me, summer means finding a full time job to work at for 3 months. I’ve sent in numerous applications online, but I find that most businesses want in-person contact. That’s a tough one to maneuver considering I live in a different area code.

So as I’m going about my week, already stressed for finals, there is this little gnawing voice in my head wondering if I am doing enough. Maybe I should apply for an internship, or maybe I should make more phone calls to businesses in my hometown? In this past term of documenting my distractions, I have come to the realization that most of them manifest in the form of thought, rather than technology.

If I’m not carrying out a conversation with somebody, I guarantee that I am having some sort of internal monologue. This happens so severely that at times I’ll realize I’m chuckling to myself or am physically shaking my head. Everything that I do or the people around me do is observed, analyzed, and diagnosed. I realize this probably stems from some kind of serious control issue, but simply acknowledging it doesn’t make it stop.

I’m trying this new thing where I am 100% present in the now, but how do you shut off a particular piece of your brain and not all of it?

This week my distraction came in the form of a rapper bottle-feeding a baby giraffe.

As I sat completely brain dead, staring at my media history essay prompt, I remembered that I had bookmarked in my mind a show that I needed to check out. I had seen it floating around the Twittersphere and decided that I could get absolutely no writing done until I watched an episode.

The show is entitled Most Expensivist Shit, and it is a series of mini episodes produced for GQ. The host of the show is none other than Two Chains (“but I got me a few on” dear God somebody please get this reference.) If you know me, you know I love me some hoodrat music, straight out the trap. Two Chains happens to be an individual who produces said music, therefore I love Two Chains.

Anyways, I begin to watch numerous episodes (they are around 8 minutes in length,) and let me tell you I am hooked. The whole concept is to send Two Chains to review the most expensive products in the world. Examples include, but are not limited to; ice cream coated in 24K gold, $100,000 bottles of water, and purchasing 7 month-old giraffes.

As I’m watching these episodes I keep shaking my head at the ludicrousness of it all. As if it isn’t sickening enough that people can afford these types of commodities, but they are ACTUALLY PAYING FOR THIS SHIT. I can’t help but to be convinced that “expensive taste” comes in tow of an unimaginably bloated ego. To imagine that people think so highly of themselves that they deserve such luxuries is staggering to say the very least.

And yet, I enjoyed every single minute of it because of the sheer preposterousness of such a concept. My thoughts circled back to Fight Club once more, and I laughed at the uncanny ability the world has to make absolutely no sense.

A few days ago I was taking a shower and per tradition, I was reading the ingredient labels of all of my shower products. I’m not completely sure as to why I do this…curiosity maybe? It’s a nice pass time while I’m waiting for my conditioner to soak in.

Sparked by a discussion in class this past Wednesday, I have become extremely aware of my absolute inability to multi-task. The example somebody gave in class was listening to music or playing a TV show in the background while doing homework.

How the shit do people do this? Moreover, how do people do this successfully? Even while writing this post I decided to play a song that I have recently fallen in love with and I have had to take five breaks from writing to just enjoy the music. When I do homework or any other cognitive task, I have to isolate myself in a room away from any person, sound, or image that might distract me.

The culture in my generation has led me to believe that my inability to multitask is something negative or alienating, and until this past year, I believed that too.

But perhaps my brain is just an older model than the ones that surround it. Perhaps I have the right idea, and life is about devoting our attention to one thing at a time. When I go for a walk I am present in the natural life that surrounds me. When I watch a TV show, I am present to absorb all of the information that is provided to me.

I have spent a lot of time trying to train myself to be able to multitask when in reality, that may have been my biggest distraction. From this point forward, instead of fighting the way my brain works, I am going to try to accept it and take advantage of the positives that come from singular focus.

No, the title isn’t a typo, but rather a double entendre. The first week of spring term has come to a close and I have realized that taking an easy class schedule may not be for me.

Having survived a treacherous winter term, I decided to reward myself by taking on a whopping 12 credits this spring. With masterful manipulation I also was able to condense my schedule so that I only have class twice every week. While my newfound life of leisure has been quite a blessing, in the prolific words of Big Daddy Kane, “Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy”.

What I mean by this is that it is a complete bitch to get my day started when I don’t have anywhere in particular to be. With so much time on my hands, I am distracted by literally everything that I see. I have so many side-projects and ventures that I would like to pursue outside of class, that the thought of all of them sets my mind into a sort of frenzy. This frenzy is fucking crippling and I end up spending so much time just thinking about all of the things that I want to do, that I don’t do any of them. In a schedule like last term’s where almost every minute of my day was planned out ahead of time (I’m a psychopath like that) I was able to complete tasks, because I knew if I didn’t do them in the allotted time, I just wouldn’t have time for them at all.

Now look at me, complaining about having too much time on my hands. How absolutely bougie let-them-eat-cake of me. But nevertheless, I would argue that the price of freedom is knowing exactly what to do with it.