I’m wrestling with my own drive these days. Determined as I may be, when I hit a particularly busy/stressful/overwhelming period (like, say, now), I slog through a massive slowdown before I accend to the magnificent efficient machine I am under pressure.

What this means in common English? It means I’ve got one month to make three months’ income in addition to completing the pre-assignments for Columbia, and that instead I spent hours “researching” pop culture online, mornings sleeping in luxuriantly late, and far too much time chatting to friends. I watch the hours slip by with a combination of horror (”Oh my god, I’m leaving for New York in three weeks, and here I am reading about Ewan McGregor!”) and blindness (”Oh, he’s married to an older woman–interesting!”). I kill time while I clench my teeth against the inevitability of its progress.

Last night I buckled down and did what I do best: made list and stuck to it. On the list:
1) Write 10 Amazon reviews
2) Complete two of four Columbia University assignments
I did both, and felt sort of good. But here it is, almost 1pm and I’ve done very little today. Gotta git onnit. I have the abillity to be tremendously motivated, but I have to push myself to some level of bone-crushing anxiety before that determination instinct kicks in. This is something I used to be able to do on command: “Begin work now.” But three years away from school and a year or two out of a nine-to-five job have dulled my drive, and I’m struggling to remind myself that I must keep the hustle going (at first I typed “I must keep hustling,” but wasn’t quite sure about the implications of that statement).

I’ve worked for myself at home for the last several years, so I’m obviously good at managing my time…I’m just having some sort of stress-induced lapse.