Productivity and Chickens

I spent all of yesterday in bed. It must’ve been the hangover, but I didn’t feel too bad the few times I actually managed to open my eyes, just extremely tired. I guess I’m just getting old. I can’t drink until the sun is coming up and expect to do anything productive the next day. (Wednesday night was my first night of heavy drinking since I was hospitalized to take the metal out of my leg three weeks ago.) I only got out of bed once, to cook some ramen, although I did scoot to the edge of my bed another time to smoke out the crack in the door to my balcony*.

I didn’t accomplish a single thing, but if there had to be a day to sacrifice to the deities of alcoholism and regret and bad decisions, it was yesterday. I realized that when I woke up this morning to the alarm on my phone. During that previous 24-hour period, there were no missed calls, no unread text messages or e-mails, no Facebook alerts, nothing.

It felt strange and a little sad. I’m maybe the least social person I know—knowing someone less social would be logically impossible—but I get several calls and text messages every day from telemarketers trying to get me to change my cellular service or take out a loan. And there’s always at least a little activity among my friends in the KakaoTalk chat groups that I’m a part of but rarely take part in. Days like that make me question why I even pay for cellular service at all.

After class, I took my car in for my 80k service, seriously debated whether it’s worth having a car in Seoul, chain-smoked (apparently to make up for not filling yesterday’s quota), and went home. And that’s when the floodgates burst open, and most of it was progress related to the book. I got an e-mail from a magazine agreeing to do a review, a confirmation for an interview in a newspaper, another e-mail informing me that my copy of the paperback had come in, and a Facebook message telling me that copies of the book for sale in a bookstore had come in as well. There was a flurry of activity in the KakaoTalk chat groups, and my brother posted on Facebook about taking the slow train with a bunch of conscripts on their way to their permanent stations. In the afternoon, I got yet another e-mail finalizing an interview for another, more influential blog.

I’ve left out the specifics because the chickens haven’t hatched yet, the wariness a side-effect of my experience in the Army. You can let the prospect of good things give you momentary happiness as long as you realize that might be all that comes of it. Nonetheless, it was a good day. I’ll post updates here as the chickens hatch.

Dwight disagrees. Taken from

* I was re-reading the post and read: “… smoke crack out the door to my balcony.” I’m still tired.

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2 Responses to Productivity and Chickens

  1. bighominid says:

    May there be much hatching in your near future.


  2. Young says:

    Thanks, Kevin. I was just reading up on the hatching of eggs, and I found that there’s no way to predict how many will hatch even with perfect incubation conditions. I guess that’s why the proverb is what it is.


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