#the dozer

Very recently, in fact it was last Friday night, I went to see The Avengers at the cinema and while the film was very good I found myself identifying, maybe even connecting, with one of the protagonists and his alter-ego; in a very warped way I felt like Bruce Banner and the Hulk. Up until now I had not realised how empathetic I could have felt for the man behind the big green monster but I have recently discovered that I too have a nasty side to me. I too have an alter-ego.  I have said previously in the last post that my constant battles with time, whom we shall name as the villain of this tale, are always hard fought and almost never won. I find his disappearing act all too shocking and his creeping up on me akin to a small child on a bicycle, stalking a snail and wondering what it's gizzards look like. The question on your lips is: When will it strike? 

While this is all well and good during the post examination period of the lazy British summertime, but during the exams, this millstone or 'shit' as I like to call him is constantly harassing me, not even coming close to deterring my alter-ego from going about his business. (He, as you will see has been working overtime of late). 

At a time when I would rather shower in marmite than sit or revise for an exam, 'The Dozer' is awake in me, running riot and wreaking havoc with my proposed engagements for the next day. Well OK, maybe not running riot, or even being awake for that matter but nonetheless The Dozer is very much the person who gets up in the morning, turns the alarm off and gets back into bed for some unearned piece and quiet. Not me.

I have tried everything. I hide my alarm clock; The Dozer seems to find it, turn it off and return with it to his pit like a demented magpie. I ask members of my family to ring me; The Dozer will answer, professing bare faced lies of vitality, refreshment and alertness up until the nanosecond the line goes silent and will then once again descend into the valley of the shadow of death; into insanity and nightmare. The bastard will not stop until his dastardly plans of total morning domination are achieved so that he can rest easy knowing that he has done his utmost to ruin what revision plans I had.

As of tonight however, I have begun a different strategy in attempting to reclaim my early hours. I'm writing to him. I thought that I could appeal to his good nature in the hope that I can somehow coax him into my dressing gown, coerce him into the shower and step out of it as myself. We shall see what the morning holds. The one thing I can be certain of is that if The Dozer maintains his vice like grip on me and then finds out about my relationship with procrastination, it could spell the end of any sort of productiveness for me.