The Pain Period – End of Day 2 – November 14th, 2013

Rhythm. I need rhythm.

Today didn’t proceed as planned. I got up, reset the alarm to get up two hours later, then drove over to my old man to try and find a solution to the Mac/Windows conundrum. Luckily, I could just copy over Boot Camp Assistant, which I ended up not using because I didn’t have the time nor will left to keep searching through countless posts on support forums, each exclaiming that their solution worked, a claim that was backed up by a handful of the other guys ecstatic enough to register an account to relay their gratitude.

There was an alternative: running Windows on a virtual machine. I finally made it work by running a pirated copy of Windows on a virtual machine using pirated VM software while listening to pirated music. There was even a disgruntled, passive aggressive “This copy of Windows is not genuine” message that marked the last bit of resistance that accompanied making illegally obtained software to play nice.

God bless the internet.

Anyway, this afternoon, as I was installing the VM software, I arranged to see the iStore on Saturday to see if they could get Boot Camp to work. Now, I can see that the VM software works fine, if not better than a partitioned Windows install (switching between the two OSs is surprisingly smooth, like alt-tabbing between two different computers; I honestly expected more problems than this). Then again, you can run the Boot Camped Windows through the VM software, so that mite b cool. We’ll see.

So now that I’ve gotten the Mac capable of running the shit I need to study, I need to get started.

With the new shiny toy and the morbid, compelling challenge of coaxing it into working, I’ve kind of sunk into one of those indolent states where it becomes increasingly hard to get your shit back in order. You know that you’ve got things to do, chapters to read through, concepts to understand, notes and flashcards to assimilate; you have to keep up with exercising, fucking eat more, get more sleep, practice more guitar, talk to more chicks, keep in touch with friends god fucking damnit its too much.

The thing is, once I’ve got a rhythm going, then all of the above proceeds effortlessly. I already wrote about this last night, so I won’t go into detail again. I spent most of today both setting up the computer and fucking around to a great degree, so I accrued a fair deal of deficits.

Which I’m going to cede.
The excel document I made, I’m going to lower the hours for this week. While it bugs me, because there will be a permanent record right at the start of the fucking timeline showing that I screwed up in the very first week, I have to do it.

If I decide to be stubborn and hardass about, then I’ll have to get up earlier and go to bed later, work through breaks, and burn out almost instantaneously. I’ll binge on video games or the internet or some shit and rack up even more deficits, fucking up my exams and causing me to have to write off an entire month on the timeline, which makes the whole thing completely meaningless. Giving myself 10-20% slack for one week to deal with unforeseen circumstances is acceptable, but continually falling behind to the point where I scrape by on my exams and have to completely start over, that’s unacceptable.

The time is now 21:06. I’ll usually be in bed by 20:30, so I’ll cut the hours I missed today and an extra one tomorrow to allow myself to get the eight hours in. Sleep is critical: it won’t help if I work that extra hour if I’m just going to be sitting there staring at the screen hoping that I’ll somehow absorb the contents through the fucking ether.

I have to maintain conscious of why I’m doing what I’m doing. Even if the idea of reaching goals a year or two down the line doesn’t exactly thrill me unless I put work into visualizing it, the idea of being hit with some unfortunate event (e.g. running into my ex, missing an opportunity with a girl) and not having the confidence and strength granted by productivity to withstand it, that is very compelling. If I’m not very intensely motivated by the fruits of my planned labors,  the grief of regret and disappointment is still an excellent back-up.


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