Rule # 1 - No phone in my room. I waver on this self imposed prima regula. What if there is an emergency and I need to call 9-11? What if one of my kids need me? Those possibilities are slightly outweighed by my need to be in bed - without a phone. Two nights ago, however, I was awoken by a man and woman having a loud disagreement outside, under my bedroom window. In my half-awake-ness, I hobbled to the dining room table to retrieve the banished phone from its charger. Perhaps this was a good thing. Those few moments of being upright, gaining a sense of bearing, allowed me a chance to breathe deeply. Think clearly. No need to call 9-11 on a couple's fight. Chances are most of us have been a publicly dueling duo a time or two in our relationships. Instead I cemented my brief, initial (WTF) peek through the blinds to memory. I heard the name 'Ashley' several times and noted that as well. I looked at the time in case it ever became important. A bit more cognizant now, I decided to just be a silent, unknown witness. Even though I really wanted to open my front door and tell them to move along, decent people are asleep at this hour, I resisted that inclination. I quietly gave it 10 minutes to see if the situation escalated and needed (heaven forbid) police intervention. I don't know the number of any counselors who would race to scene past midnight. Thankfully I was able to resume slumber and no somnambulist statement to the sheriff was needed. Mmm, maybe I do need my phone by my side. But not tonight.
Rule # 2 - No automatic phone reaching in the morning. Not being an automaton. Something like that. For an addict of Words with Friends and 7 Little Words this proves to be harder than it sounds. Setting a morning ritual assists me in this no phone first mantra. It's a bit old-fashioned, but bear with me. I look at a clock to see what time it is. And - wait for it -I go outside to check on the weather, As a writer I hear over and over morning pages. Morning Pages. Stream of consciousness. Awaken your brain first thing in the morning. Three pages at a minimum. Truth is, that is exactly what I am doing right now. As always, the practice of heeding this advice serves to remind me what a great discipline it is. But I'm weak. I'm human. I'm curious to know how 'liked' I am. All the more reason for me to employ alternative activities to begin my day. If not morning pages then the crossword puzzle in the Denver Post. They graciously print two every day - can life get any better than that? What I am actually doing is replacing a bad habit with a better one. There are a lot of hours between six am and ten pm. The reality is I only carve out two hours enforcing rules # 1 and 2. This leaves a huge swath of time - say 8 am to 9 pm (that is 13 hours!) to un-occupy my screen time. Let's explore another wrinkle of this system. COVID. I spend more time at home than ever before. I need to recall time-tested ways of how to spend days. Reading & writing of course. TV watching? OK - but not too much. Certainly not first thing in the morning, and not as background noise all day. Cooking? Sure, I like chopping and slicing and dicing. I'm a regular Ron Popeil in the kitchen. But what else? Thank Goodness sleep gives me something to do for 1/3 of the day.
Rule # 3 - The Pomodoro Technique. Better known as how to keep Jane focused and away from her phone. Last year in my memoir class (Live! In a Library! With Lots of People! We Were Daring!) Ray, one of the duo who prodded us and prompted us weekly, set out a timer and introduced the concept of the Pomodoro Technique. Simple enough. Set a timer ( I say egg, he says tomato) for a mere 25 minutes. Write and only write for that chunk of time. Ding! You're done! Stretch, loo, do it again. Did you know that I am a resistor? I'm talking to myself here, but feel free to chime in. I resist structure, authority, chocolate cake. Scratch that last one. I don't need a tomato to tell me to write! I'm a writer. Ideas come to me. My pen loves my paper- why put limits on their love affair? I filed the Pomodoro Technique in the back of my cranial Rolodex and never tried it. Not once. Don't tell me what to do... Sound familiar? And, yes - I wear a mask.
Two years ago I rented a casita in Santa Fe, NM. The sole purpose was to write. And I did, but I was also distracted. I could walk to The Plaza, to the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, to a cafe that had green chile scones. A short drive took me to Canyon Road, to the Recreation Center at Ft. Marcy, to the Indian Market. One morning after picking out my produce, I wandered into the indoor market and found a stall called Deb's Bargain Den. I'm a gal who cannot resist a bargain. Instead of being on the sunny patio of the casita (writing...) I'm digging through dusty books. I purchase one for a buck called the Productivity Planner, It made perfect sense to me that while I was procrastinating - and doing it well, I might add - my Higher Power found this book and put it in my hand (the hand that really should have been holding a pen). In my typical way, I only glanced at it when I returned to the casita. Oh yeah, it is like a day-timer, but kind of weird. And in time it went from handsomely sitting on my bookshelf (pick me - pick me) to a bucket in the bottom of a closet. Snugly nestled with all the other must-read, gotta-have bargain books from (mostly) library book sales.
Quarantine is a perfect time to clean out closets, so it was no surprise to find this thin volume in my hand last week. It's a nice book with a good feel to the touch. It has three components I like in the physical construction of a book; gold lettering on the cover, an elastic to keep it shut, and an attached ribbon to mark my place. This time I found myself actually opening the book and reading the first thirty or so pages of instructions of how to effectively use this book to boost productivity. I consider it a win that I only had to hear about tomatoes and timers twice to give this technique a chance. I haven't actually WRITTEN anything in the book which is highly recommended, and most likely the entire point of the book, but I am trying. C'mon. Baby steps is all this PRO-crastinator can do right now.
I am learning. I've had several aha moments. 25 minutes is a manageable amount of time. My brain is beginning to let go of really wanting to hear the bell. Time's Up! Thank you Dr. Pavlov. Today, or maybe tomorrow, or the next day, I will re-read the instructions and begin to utilize the book as intended.
Somehow, this brings me back to my phone and more specifically Facebook. My time vampire. It's all connected. The Pomodoro Technique is giving me permission to put my phone on silent. Remove it from my reach. And thus, I work. I am more focused. It feels good to hear the timer and see what I've accomplished. Not just writing either. I use the technique to measure housework - twenty-five solid minutes and the place sparkles. Chop veggies, prep and tidy the kitchen? Done. I can even time crocheting while I mindlessly watch evening TV and still garner a sense of worth.
Facebook sucks me in to a negative space. Cyber arguments, exerting my will, wanting others to see things my way. I need to let go of all that for my serenity, sanity and dignity. The Pomodoro Technique is showing me that the only place I need to have the last word is right here. On the page.
