Procrastination Nation

I have been feeling terribly unsettled, and it should come as no surprise to anyone, especially me, that I'm procrastinating. I don't have much opportunity for procrastination any more, seeing as I don't have to report to an employer and nobody puts constraints on my time but me, but lately, I have been putting something off.

Remember the last post ended with, "And now I will figure out exactly what it is I do"? (or something like that). Well, I've not been figuring out what it is that I do very much. I did take a glance at a book and realized that all of that science-y stuff is still in my head, so that part isn't a problem. What I've not been doing however, is talking science. It would be handy if on Wednesday I don't talk like a complete idiot when I'm being interviewed. It would be good if I sounded as though I actually cared about getting this job. Which I do, don't get me wrong.

There's a lot of other stuff going on of course, and I don't know how to divide my time. I used to know how to do this. When I had no time at all to spare two years ago, I used every minute and everything got done. Now that I have lots of spare time, I don't want to do anything.

I don't think this is atypical.

Rather than spend a lot of time lamenting my fate though, I'd prefer to talk about something that pops into my head every once in a while, and which I find amusing.

I often think about what it would be like to live in a different era, to "time travel" back and, knowing everything I know now, live for a few days with the regular people of that time. The other day when I was walking up the hill to get the kids from school (1.2km, up) I was thinking about what it would be like to be transferred back to 1950-something. In the movies, women from this time are portrayed as poufy dress-wearing, wasp-thin waist types, who did nothing but keep house and wait for their man to get home from work, and look after the children. I'm thinking of the middle-class here, seeing as that's my station more or less. So if I get to live in the early 50's, with my little housedress and my current cooking skills, and some husband-guy who refers to women as "dames" and expects his shirts pressed and a spotless house...well, already the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. Firstly, I think of dresses as dressing up, so I'd be looking for some pants, pronto. Secondly, I am not demure and I tend to swear like a sailor if I can't get what I want. Thirdly, if all I could get at the grocery store were various cuts of meat, "steak spice" and potatoes, dinner would get darn boring really fast. Finally, the whole relationship equality discussion would probably get out of hand.

Usually, what happens in these scenarios is I get arrested after getting into massive arguments with people of the time. Or I get tossed into a psychiatric hospital because my futuristic outlook is frightening. Unfortunately, I never end up with people who might be looking to the future, or looking beyond their dinner plates. I don't transport myself to living with Hollywood types or Beatniks (and even then, the chauvinism was appalling), or the scientists of the time. I put myself in the middle of the middle class, cooking dinner for hubby and raising the children and wiping down every speck of dust before I go completely barking mad from the boredom.

This selection from the Spiegel catalog comes with a funny little commentary (if you ignore the typos) about dressing in the 50's. The person who added the commentary indicated at one point that if we think models are thin now, just look at these girls, they have to hold each other up! and it's true. The 19-inch waist? I don't know how you get that, I've certainly never had one.

Where does one go to eat? Supper Clubs? Why on earth would I go out to eat food that I can make myself ... only better? I'd have to drop that idea really fast if I ever wanted to go out for dinner again though.