Attention Deficit

Three-thirty, three-forty; three-fifty. Five-thirty, five-forty; five-fifty. Two hours. Two clean hours of nothingness and serendipity. She didn’t do anything except think about a lot of nothingness. She even didn’t realize it yet until the phone rang; her friend asked if she was free later that day. “No,” she replied, quick with her tongue, silent with her intention. She’d realized the job she ought to have completed hadn’t been touched.

“Maybe some other time,” she explained, gatekeeping her resentment for being lazy, “are you free tomorrow? I can create time, and we can meet.”

Then, she went back to her idle state. Trying to figure out what really happened between those two hours. It felt strange; alien even. There wasn’t any rational explanation she hoped to find that explained her behavior.

It all began after she ate her lunch. She’d cooked rice, meat, and a little bit of greens on the side; on that day, she chose spinach. Not forgetting mango juice that she blended after procuring mangoes from the market. What she loved about the mangoes leaned on the generosity of the vendor that sold her the fruits.

An old lady, her hair turning grey on the side, hands wrinkling with exhaustion. Judging by the hardness of her skin, Lina assured the woman must’ve been a farmer too. Her nails had a little shade of dark colors at the edges; brown and black. Only a person digging the earth, or uprooting small plants like coriander, which the vendor had stocked before Lina’s eyes, would get their nails as dirty. Flashing at her own nails, Lina was grateful she didn’t end up in a family that had to attend to the farm to eat.

Nonetheless, Lina was ungrateful for how they didn’t own large plantations with fruit and vegetables like the ones she was buying. The old woman vendor had given Lina more than enough mangoes to consume. Her generosity pushed known boundaries such that each time Lina held one, she wondered what spurred such good moods.

That’s when it all started. The mindless thinking and idling around as if there wasn’t anything better nothing to do. Retracing her steps, Lina saw her thoughts the way light rings in the north pole; colorful and interesting. She then recalled wandering about the future, scrambling thoughts; designing plans.

Everything was fine; the horizons were clear and the skies had never been so blue. Yet, in her thoughts, something else poked her peace. A constant worry that something might happen. Something unexpected, and everything will go up in flames. Life’s surprises know no measure and Lina hasn’t forgotten the rhythm of that tune.

Going through her thought process once more, trying to figure out what really happened in her two-hour absence; Lina once more thought about the woman at the market, followed by the thought of life being complicated in the not-so-distant future, and at that point, she registered what lay in between her brainy pulses. It was a known enemy she’s been trying to fight all this time. In fact, it wasn’t the first switch-off. It wasn’t the first time blipped before her eyes without doing anything.

To make matters worse, Lina had promised herself to never think of the future in the negative. She made a pact to never overthink. The man had said ‘Whatever you think about ends up being who you are.’ He was very convincing. Whether it was his charisma or command of voice and language, Lina made a promise to push out excessive noise; too much distraction, and malicious self-interests. If it wasn’t fantasizing about going on a vacation somewhere, then it would be about doing anything productive. Lina had decided she wouldn’t try to make herself wallow in misery and pain. After all, it was her thoughts that needed controlling and not the other way around.

Rising on her feet, Lina rejuvenated with a stretch of her arms; a bend-over to take the remote control from the couch she’d been lying on since two-thirty. It was made of leather; fiber embedded on the inside, making it puff when enough weight pressed.

Lina loved the couch more than anything in the house. Even the sound system her mother bought her as a birthday gift. The couch defined her days, molded her moods, and she found peace and serenity on the worst days. She’d coil her body like a child in her mother’s womb, take a shoal that gave her enough warmth to stay put for hours, sticking earphones into her tiny ears. When at her worst, Lina reads a book on that couch, hoping stress and anything bothering her dissipate into the back of her mind.

Hitting play, the speakers of her sound system played a song. Her favorite. Lina loved how it started; “There’s something pulling me closer, if I’m wiser, I’d know better; since I’m not, I’ll be your life’s composer” swaying her hips to the syncopated beats.

Whenever she listened to it, the song floated her away, blowing her to the moment she first heard the song, just like clouds during spring. It was on a Saturday afternoon and Lina had decided she wasn’t going to cook. She was yet to stock up, so eating out was the best option on the table. After sifting through the list of possible outlets, Lina thought it best to go eat chicken.

It’s at that restaurant, barely three kilometers from her place where she heard the song play for the first time. City Fries is the name, and they had a playlist that fit all tastes. They played anything from rhumba to R n B; hip hop to rock music, and on that day, it was all about benga: a popular music genre in Kenya.

But then, what really happened from around three in the afternoon to around five in the evening? Lina kept burrowing for an answer, and as she danced, imagining she was on a shore somewhere; dressed in a bikini – or shorts, she loved shorts – a soft breeze brushing her face as her feet dug into the soaked sand, her eyes opened up to a new reality.

It’s a cycle. A pattern with foundations dating to when she was young. Lina acknowledged she suffered from a deadly disease that not only robbed her life but also ate away her time. In between her conscious state, advice from her favorite YouTuber knocked her elevated moods, making her start feeling tired and out of sync with the music. She was tired of making plans without meeting them head-on. Lina realized her laziness drove her to procrastination. A few days ago, she woke up early enough but didn’t do a thing until three hours elapsed while staring at a little screen.

“It’s not me anymore,” she whispered. “I need to change.”

Something snapped, and when Lina jumped out of her thoughts, she had no idea how many song’s she’d danced to, let alone realize how much time had elapsed thinking about what she should do. Pausing the music, Lina stretched her sight toward the wall clock that read seven twenty-three.

“What?”

Procrastination. When she woke up, Lina made a list of activities she’d engage in for the day, detailing how much time each would take yet nothing went according to plan. Apart from dancing and singing along, Lina also cooked and fantasized for the better part of the day. Trying to make ends meet; creating connections between dots and gaps in her life that didn’t make sense. Earlier on, she wondered what happened to her desire to run and keep fit. Her heart throbbed when told to run a mile, and yet, with years stacking, the closest thing to running was dancing.

Also, in the not-so-distant past, Lina’s self-discipline aced, making her feel productive and happy after completing a day’s task. Recently, however, the girl who would wake up with a plan and go ahead to execute it had disappeared from the scene. What remained was a carcass, a system of mindless fantasies; flooding memories of herself wondering about life, questioning people’s behavior that consumed a major part of her days without having a say in it.

Running in circles never benefits anyone, she thought, I hate myself, blaming lack of control and indecision. It wasn’t procrastination alone that brought her into that pool of filth. There must be something else making her lag behind in her activities.

Placing one hand on her waist, Lina switched off the sound system, disappointed that she wasted a whole day, doing nothing but think. Checking out the clock once more, three hours remained to her bedtime; ten-thirty.

Upon discerning that truth, she began planning for the next three hours of the day. Deep down, Lina wanted to win the day, and at least complete some of the pending tasks.

The seat was cold. And so did the table that served as her working desk. Numbing the chill, Lina realized it was high time to stop thinking about things so much. It only led to procrastination, and she didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

“I need to stop overthinking,” said Lina, talking to herself like she always does, “If life is going to be productive, I need to master the art of time management. I cannot allow myself to think twice. The first thought is a go, and that’s no debate.”