Time wasters (Or: Giving Myself [and Maybe a Few Others] a Good Talking To)

Here’s the thing…
Ask yourself this question: on your deathbed, as you recount your life’s accomplishments, or regrets, do you think you’ll find yourself saying “I wish I’d spent more time on Facebook/Twitter/watching sports on TV/being inflammatory to strangers on the Internet”?

Somehow I doubt the answer is yes. Somehow I think you, even now, realize that these things are time wasters. Time stealers. Beware the time stealers. And more importantly: steal that time back.

Entertain yourself, of course. We can’t be all go, go, go all the time. I am a human being, not a human doing. Just, beware the time stealers. Suddenly, popping in on Twitter “for just a moment” becomes “following every link everyone has posted in the past 24 hours” and the next thing you know, that rabbit hole has extended into hours, and that time you had planned on using to write that novel, research that paper, building a new suit of clothes, or maybe getting on the treadmill, has flitted away and it’s time for dinner or bed or heading to the day job.

Forget whatever the “Experts” tell you. Twitter is not important. Facebook is not important. These things are passing fads. Remember MySpace? Remember Friendster? People thought a presence on those services was important once too. And come to think of it, just reading everyone else’s boring report of what they’re doing/thinking right now =/= having a presence. You’re just a voyeur. Wasting time. Stop kidding yourself.

Drop and give me 2000 words.

Category(s): tough love, writing
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