I started fixing a surfboard ding today.
That fact in and of itself is ultimately unremarkable.
I surf. I break surfboards. I’m cheap. I fix them myself.
This particular ding, on this particular surfboard is three years old.
I’ve had it covered with a really great piece of tape. The board was watertight. The foam was dry. Any issues with the ding were aesthetic ones.
But the question remains: Why today? What are the circumstances that prompted such an act?
I’ve experienced some wild productivity lately.
Ideas are gushing from me.
I’m coming up with so much new content.
Recently, while attempting a rewrite of the introduction to The Book of Wrong Answers, I kept finding new bits of recent writing that will be excellent in my second book!
Therein lies the problem.
I’m trying to string together a new framework and actually finish the first one.
All of this incredible productivity?
It’s a kind of procrastination and ultimately an avoidant aspect of perfectionism.
This dude, who is writing about b…
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