One Teeny Weeny Week, My Boy

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I'm good at getting distracted. I'm also good at starting things, making decisions, making plans, and finding things interesting.

Yes that's right, I'm no good at getting things done.

Here's a list of my current ongoing projects:

* Compose that song

* Sort and catalogue a few thousand VSTs downloaded over the years

* Make a synth drumkit, using sine waves and bandpass filtered white noise

* Read Borges' Labyrinths

* Read Slaughterhouse 5

* Write that story


And here's a list of projects in hibernation or waiting to begin:

* Tidy up the bedroom

* Find that mp3 player which I know is around here somewhere

* Find that camera which is also around here somewhere

* Watch those science documentaries waiting on the shelf

* Stop being so incredibly unhealthy

* Make a realistic sounding drumkit, using physical modelling software

* Get good at video editing

* Have a go at podcasting

* Try ganzfelding again

* Resume development on that system of shorthand

* Get back into practice speedreading

* Develop a VST for vinyl scratching

* Develop a VST for additive synthesis

* Come up with a simple sample playback system for muted and unmuted common guitar chords

* Learn more about developing VSTs so I can do it properly

* Get good at using memory mnemonics

* Loads of other stuff


Usually the things I get around to finishing are whichever projects happen not to get interrupted by something else looking interesting.

So the skill I need to develop is: Doing one thing at a time. Selecting a project, and doing nothing else for a week. If anything else look interesting (or shiny), make a note of it and come back to the notes later.

I may not finish the project, but I'll have made progress, most likely discovered whether or not it is in fact completable, and might even get that sense of achievement that I read about people getting.

My first week-project will be...becoming less horribly unfit. Everything else goes on the back burner.

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Update: I bet you've got a lateral thigh stepping machine somewhere. In the loft, or the basement. Far too many people seem to have one.

Mine was in the basement. Now it's in the bedroom. But first I had to clear some space, which meant tidying up the room, during which I found the mp3 player. Yay! Two birds with one stone, and I haven't even started yet.

I'm too tired from lugging the damn thing upstairs.

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