How to Be Productive

by Roxane Hudon

So, I really want to write, you know, be productive. Lately, I feel guilty and nervous and sweaty if I’m not doing something productive. Even my forms of procrastination have become productive. I’ll sweep the floor. I’ll walk to work. I’ll masturbate (keeps the blood flow going or something). Problem is I try to do too many things at the same time and I end up giving up and having a drink. I like to rationalize whenever I have a drink before noon. All the greats do it. And then die and centuries later, are celebrated. So, really, when I’m slurring my words at lunchtime, it’s just because I want to be remembered in 2200. Makes sense.

Anyway, I’m just writing about Life, really. Words on paper, you know, that kind of thing. I wanted to write about my night at La Boite a Marius and use it to express my opinion about Quebec culture and so on. But then, I let days pass and got bored with the idea. You know, ça fait rire les oiseaux, j’entends frapper and so on and so forth. Use a bar as a metaphor for a greater idea. Makes sense. I’m just thinking about things, really. Figuring out life, it’s normal. The Club as a metaphor for the Planet, you know, that kind of thing. Just being critical, I learnt that in School. It’s been really useful to me. The other day, I was taking my shower and thinking about how my body was just an Instrument of Desire and that my gender was a Social Construct. So, I got bored with that and pursued other things. This is where you should probably press play:

Mariah always helps me get through my confused Life moments. I feel better now, like I have a goal in mind. Yeah, so then I decided I should just write about Douchebags. Yeah, I’m Roxane. I’m angry. You know, stick to the plan. What about that stupid fat red head who wanted me to change the music at my coffee shop, only because I may or may not have been playing 8 hours of Love Songs. It was Valentine’s Day. The Silliest Day of the Year. Why not take full advantage of it and use it as an excuse to blast It’s All Coming Back to Me Now. See what I’m saying. It’s not my fault that it reminded her of that time she blacked out and woke up in a sea of empty McCain cake containers with a dried-up trickle of 35% cream running down her chin. It’s not my fault. What’s up People? Does anyone remember Laughter? Just checking. What about those cliques of full-grown women “AWWWWWWWWWWWW”- ing babies kissing in the cinema. And then they run home with their emotional problems and wonder why they’re single. Because “men are such jerks” and they “just don’t know what they want” and it’s just “sooooo hard to find love” and they just “can’t handle us”. Riiiiiiiight. Where are my Oreos, you know what I’m saying? So, I’m bored with this idea too. People are Lost. They’re mean. That’s their problem. I can’t do anything about it. I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed. You see, I’m like an onion. Layers, baby, Layers. Okay, so I’ve used the Onion Line many times in the past years and people always find it so clever. But I totally stole that from Shrek, just saying. Pool your resources in life, you know what I’m saying. I think you know what I’m saying by now.

So I decided to text my roommate for guidance. “Olympics stupid movies pointless school” All good ideas. I wrote about the Olympics. I understand they’re entertaining, that’s not the point. People have enjoyed trying to argue with me about it. It’s all been very discouraging. Strange how people become suddenly patriotic for two weeks of triple axles, curling and a good game of Who Can Go Down the Mountain The Fastest. By “Strange”, I mean Frightening. Really? You don’t give a shit about what happens in your country all year-long and suddenly you’re all like “Yeah Canada!”, “Yeah! k.d lang!”, because you’re seeing all these Canadian Flags on Ski Goggles or something. Anyway, no point talking about that either, because people who are Into the Olympics are, like, reallllyyy into it, and I rather just lie down in the dark, under my covers and give up. Lost case. School? I’m not aware of this. Can I just graduate? I get it. Taking notes, getting answers right. Being Critical. Thank you school! Now I look at Things and Question them. What is this? What is it really? What is Life? Who Am I? I’m always giving money, why do I have to apologize to people all the time? Technically, Concordia, aren’t you working for me? I’m on to you. You’re fired. This is a good joke, I like it. I feel so disconnected from other students. So serious. So miserable-looking. What happens after Kids? Do you know? Today, I was given a free Concordia Student Union travel mug. I held it awkwardly for a few hours. Probably the closest to being a Real Student than I’ve ever been. Anyway, I’m done with this. People giving so much time away to get a letter written down on a piece of paper for them. I give you an A. Here: you can print this:

A

greaat. you happy now? feel complete? Like you’ve really achieved something, right? Great, I’m glad I could do that for you. No problem. Free of charge. Any time.
So, moving on, school, pffft. Done talking about that. I called Shawn. Chit chat chit chat. I’ll just write about my obsession with drawing Mickey Mouse. Yeah, good idea. Sometime in my youth, I decided I wanted to be an artist and started to draw a lot. I mainly drew Mickey Mouse and Disney Characters. Like most things in my youth, like dance, piano, my career as an actress, aiming high and staying classy, I quit. But I always remembered How to Draw Mickey Mouse. And since I never practiced drawing anything else, Mickey Mouse is pretty much the only thing I can draw. So, obviously, I’ve been drawing him everywhere since 1992. That’s basically what I had to say today. Yeah, I like drawing Mickey Mouse. Good. I’m glad I did this. Got this out of the way. Feel good about things now. Yeah, great.
Writing: Check.
What’s next? I’m just gonna go “sweep” now….if you know what I’m saying.