My current relationship with distractions are that they terrify me. I spend so much time procrastinating that I refuse to commit to anything.

“Do you want to go to [stereotypical college activity] next monday?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Yeah maybe. It’s my out just incase I procrastinate all week and really can’t come. And they accept that answer, because more often than not I go anyway because by the end of the weekend I welcome the distraction.

The hardest part is taking the first step. I find this applies to everything I do. I put my foot forward, and how long it takes to land really depends on how long I can suspend my real life. Youtube, reddit, Netflix, all hold me in limbo. I’m waiting for the penny to drop; but when my head is in the clouds it’s a long drop, and who knows if I’ll even hear it when it lands.

My foot has dropped though, and the penny with it. The fat lady is waiting in the wings.

It is assumption that is the real culprit. Yeah maybe is an admittance that I might procrastinate. It’s the expectation that my consumption of inconsequential drivel is going to stop me from getting anything done. Assumption is a self fulfilling prophecy. So now I assume that I will get my work done.

Whether I do is up to me.

It seems that distractions follow us wherever we go, like ravens after the scent of carrion. They circle us constantly, cawing and fleetingly throwing our faces into shade. For many though, distractions are a welcome sight. In the blistering heat people might call for a huge flock of ravens to circle them, and vultures too, anything to protect them from the sun’s piercing rays.

This is my relationship with distractions. They are a friend I haven’t seen in years, who happens to visit when I have the least time to spend.

“Conor, come to the pub, we have to catch up it’s been forever!”

I of course oblige grudgingly, and for the first half an hour my stomach twists as I think of everything I have to do. This is the trap though, the more anxious I become the less I want to think about my obligations, the more I welcome the shade. I soon find myself engrossed in the nostalgia of conversations with an old friend. The second pint comes with a relief, I’m committed to the distractions now, the ravens have chased away my nagging worries. The nagging scent of carrion fades as the raves feed, and soon my friend isn’t a distraction at all. I am enjoying myself, and the occasional whiffs of responsibility are unwanted.

In a sense my life is nothing but distractions. Whatever I am  doing, there is always something else calling for me. If it’s not the cawing of the crows, it’s the heat of the sun. The universe is like a needy child shouting, “Conor! Look at what I can do!”

Distraction is the fence that keeps me from progressing, but it also protects me from awareness. “Ignorance is bliss,” it’s the catchphrase of distraction. Sometimes though, productivity is my distraction, and this is when the clarity comes. If I just keep up this momentum then nothing can stop me, my goals whiz by me as I pass on after another. Then there is the swoop or a raven, and the whisper and weight of responsibility begins to weigh me down.

Whether the cycle begins anew is up to me.