Record Reconstructor

This week:  Accelerationist anxiety, a silly amount of albums from the mid 1990s.  It used to be for me that a deadline provided a very useful starting point for a simple calculation.  If the deadline for any given task is in, say 5 days time, and it's a task that should take me 4 hours to complete, I will schedule myself to begin that task in 4 days and 20 hours time, and until I reach that threshold I would act as if that task did not exist.  It's ironic, because I'm quite serious about punctuality when I make plans with people;  at some point in the past someone impressed on me the importance of being on time for things and now I get frustrated if I am late, and very  frustrated if other people are making me late for plans with other people because their view of timekeeping is (lets say politely) more flexible than mine, but my desire not to do work often overcame my need to be on time. Over the years, I've trained myself to see deadlines as more "the am...

  Dashboard!  I've spent a lot of my life asking myself, "what am I good at?".  Inferiority complexes and imposter syndrome are nothing new in the world, nor are they unique to me, but since childhood, I've always been around seemingly effortlessly talented people who can accomplish things I could never aspire to.  My father the spy/diplomat/musician with his speaking five languages and playing 20 different instruments, a talent that skipped me and passed to my sister, though we both got a similar dose of my families history of mental instability.  I know people who can sing, write, act, create amazing art, who are funnier, smarter, more analytical, confident and cooler than I am.  They're better cooks, tennis players, painters, and musicians than I, and a host of other hobbies I've dabbled in in the past.   All hope is not lost though.  The two things my near five decades have taught me are a decent talent for self-reflection (thank you, yea...