This column was doomed from the start. A good indication of this is that I am sitting here, as we speak, in the bathtub, the night before my deadline, typing away. That’s right, the bathtub. In order for you to truly grasp the irony of this, perhaps I should explain the essence of this column, the subject, its purpose. This column, you see, is about procrastination, or more specifically, my ever-so-keen skill in that area.
It all came about almost three weeks ago when I emailed my editor, Tim, and informed him that due to the fact that we were entering the last few weeks of the semester, what I like to refer to as my personal hell, it seemed most appropriate that I write my next column about procrastination, as it was playing such a large role in my recent misery. “Sounds fine,” he replied, “but we don’t have a paper for the next two weeks, so your deadline is not until December 2.” Well, dearest reader, I think you and I both know where this is going (and if you don’t, simply refer to the first paragraph and orientate yourself with my current location, otherwise known as the bathtub).
Did I get cracking on this two weeks ago? No. Did I begin to make notes last week perhaps? Of course not. I decided instead that red wine and grotesque amounts of pie would be an appropriate way to spend my Thanksgiving break. So here I sit, with piles of homework and newly acquired holiday pounds weighing me down. Oh and I’ve left the bathtub. In fact, since the last paragraph, I’ve puttered around my apartment, tried a terribly unpleasant smoothie-in-a-bottle and finished off my container of strawberry soy ice cream. Sigh. Lest you think I am a mere amateur and use only food as a distraction, allow me to assure you that I am an absolute pro. On this very, oh-so-rainy afternoon, instead of coming directly home after class, I took a detour and swung into the restaurant where I work, to see if anyone wanted to cover my shift for tonight so I could “work on my column.” Of course no one did, and the hostess that I asked looked at me and replied “Honey, I don’t even want to be working now.” Hmm. I wasn’t terribly surprised; this was the answer I was expecting to get. If that was the case, then why had I driven into work and asked anyway, you wonder? Well, I did it so that I could procrastinate while pretending to be studious. Of course, if I had simply spent that half an hour that it took me to go and instead actually, oh, I don’t know, WORKED on my column, then it wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. I have become so skilled at my ability to procrastinate that I have learned how to disguise it in order to not experience the guilty nagging feeling that accompanies your run-of-the-mill, strawberry soy ice cream variety procrastination.
It didn’t start out this way. The semester, I mean. I began, as always, with the conviction that I was going to stay on top of things this time. My certainty was as sharp as my new pencils. And, as always, my fervor dulled as quickly as my pencil tips (well, mine are mechanical so technically they never dull, but just go with the image). Wouldn’t you think I would have learned by now? I am a senior in college for freakin’ sakes. That means I have been in school FOREVER. I’m no novice kindergartener learning to balance and prioritize my demanding schedule of snack time and finger painting. I have been doing it for, let’s see, I’m 22 and started school at age 5 so that would mean…I have been in school for 17 years. So why haven’t I become a pro at making things easier on myself by not waiting until the last minute? No, its not so that I can put “works great under pressure” on my resume (although…now that I think of it), but it is because I spent more time learning how to become a skilled, guilt-free procrastinator.
But if you think about it, procrastination just doesn’t make any sense (although it does seem to make you fat, as I am beginning to notice): it is not as though by procrastinating, the work gets done faster, I mean, it doesn’t go away. The work only becomes more difficult and tiresome, because you now have less time in which to complete it. It is a completely ridiculous, counter-productive behavior and next semester, my last, is going to be different. That’s right, I am finally going to stay on top of things, get my work in order ahead of time and stick to a schedule. But first, I wonder if I have any more ice cream…?