‘GOOD GIRL FANTASTIC BULLET POINTING WELL DONE.’ We may look twenty, but self-motivation must still be dished out as if to a rather slow seven-year old. When apathy whirls gleefully around the library, it’s important to have a few slightly more invigorating tricks up your sleeve.
Distractions, distractions. Our attempts to look everywhere but at the pages of The Politics of Poll Tax may lead us to a distraction as old as time: unrequited lust. Oh, girl/boy in the velvet leggings, your hair’s soft tufts and gentle eyes demand that I spend, say… five minutes in every thirty observing you admiringly. Ten. Twenty. Think of each glance as a reward for every new sentence you write. This will spur you into a gentle note-taking trot in no time. Approach them?! Oh, no, but what of my newfound efficiency? Has there ever been a more convenient excuse for creepy gawping?
What about fuel? Surely we cannot rely on our squeaky grey matter to deliver the goods un-oiled? No, a good splash of Nescafe Instant will shake lethargy from our limbs. All it asks for in return is your blood pressure and a seething dependence. If you find that a simple coffee no longer resuscitates the zombie on a Thursday morning, I offer you the recipe for my own particular brand of battery acid: add three tablespoonfuls of coffee granules and a pinch of desperation to 330ml of your finest coca-cola. Shake. Drink. Hold back the puke for added exhilaration.
Unfortunately you might find that Lady Snooze is not so easily perturbed. In which case, we must succumb to her wicked whispers for just a few minutes. Such dozes can be strategically meted out in so-called ‘power-naps’ for the sake of our conscience. I myself have found that whatever I call them, sleeping in the Rad Cam adds nothing but the occasional dollop of drool and an unnecessary fifty minutes to the essay at hand.
In the 21st century the contagion and ruthlessness of the Bubonic Plague adopts a new name: Facebook. Our essay flounders in Lucy’s ‘Shagaluf 2012’ album, in Gareth’s rigorously documented new relationship. And when we’re bored of stalking, our finger wanders lazily up to the URL bar. ‘f’, enter… oh wait. Back where I started. The secret is to maintain a more watchful eye on our Facebooking habits whilst in the library. Watch, as your work:facebook ratio slips steadily from 40 to 5 minutes, 30 to 10, 1 to 60.
When experiencing an utter dearth of creativity do not despair. Even the Dullest Joe can re-harness his innate bodily urge to secretion in defence of boredom. Need a wee? Break ahoy! A thoughtfully planned trip to the nearest (or furthest) loo is the perfect procrastination cleverly disguised as a necessity. Only the bladder need be fooled; a week-long program of Immediate Evacuation at the Slightest Tingling will leave you with an incontinence of a pensioner and a sly get-out clause like no other. The things we do for the sake of procrastination…
