I have this terrible tendency. It's something I've battled with since I can remember, something that paralyzes and incapacitates and is absolutely, unequivocally detrimental to productivity.
I am a procrastinator.
There. I said it. It's the dreaded word. The word that makes me break out in a cold sweat because I have been guilty of it in almost every aspect of my life - I mean relationally, educationally, professionally, financially, etc. for years and years.
Okay, dictionary. Give me the gory details.
procrastinate
(transitive verb)
to put off intentionally and habitually
(intransitive verb)
to put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
I'm the person who submitted every single essay in university by pulling an all-nighter and writing it start to finish the night before the due date. I've had to stop using the public library for months on end because I've accumulated fines of $100 and more for overdue items (don't even start my mother on this topic. It was the bane of our conversational existence for far longer than it should have been). Or take for example that I am living in a world where my rent has increased, my monthly TTC Metropass fare has increased, my food costs have increased, and my paycheque has NOT increased. If I thought I was scraping by before, well, hello frugal living in a whole new way - and yet trying to brainstorm creative ways to add to the income, or taking on a second job, well, let's just not think about it, let alone discuss it.
It's a disease, I swear. Instead of doing whatever it is that I need to do...I shop. (GULP. Dangerous!) I read. I arrange and rearrange picture frames, tea light candle holders, furniture. I watch television occasionally, when I can find something on my miniature rabbit-eared black and white television with two channels (CBC and CTV, if you're wondering) worth watching.
The question becomes why?
Why do I intentionally put off doing things?
Things that are, at times, not even all that dreadful?
Like, for example, I procrastinate in returning a friendly phone call (yes, friends, there are times when I have to talk myself into calling you back), shooting off a quick response via email (although it doesn't help that I'm not always computer accessible), even journaling (one of the most cathartic and healing things imaginable for me) or blogging.
Yes, blogging.
Have you noticed that the posts are few and far between?
This is not always, as I often claim, because I don't have time to blog. Sometimes, I have too much time. The truth is that I feel the pressing need to be witty. To sound intellectual, to have something meaningful to say. In the absence of photos, of technological savvy that makes the blog aesthetically interesting or creatively inspiring, I have words. They better be good.
So, why do I believe I procrastinate? It's not that I'm lazy. Not at all. Or that I'm unmotivated. I have all the motivation in the world, if I'm being very honest. Or that I'm anti-social, or financially irresponsible (except when it comes to shoes).
It's the pursuit of perfection that has me paralyzed, terrified to complete whatever it is that has to get done. In essay writing, it was easier not to revise eight hundred million times. If I left it until the last minute, I had to do my best or else. In not returning a phone call, I can avoid potential conflict, boredom, anything that in any way mars the relationship. By not journaling, I can avoid the inevitable verbal diarrhea that, while an incredible release, is also not always something I want to remember of myself later on. (Add to that the fact that, not so long ago, my journals were read and ransacked and quoted back to me in one of the most unbelievable displays of authoritarian control and vicious degradation imaginable.) In the pursuit of my own dreams, well...heaven help me if it isn't easier to crawl back into a hole than be forced to succeed on the stage that is real life.
Okay, dictionary. Give me the gory details.
procrastinate
(transitive verb)
to put off intentionally and habitually
(intransitive verb)
to put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
I'm the person who submitted every single essay in university by pulling an all-nighter and writing it start to finish the night before the due date. I've had to stop using the public library for months on end because I've accumulated fines of $100 and more for overdue items (don't even start my mother on this topic. It was the bane of our conversational existence for far longer than it should have been). Or take for example that I am living in a world where my rent has increased, my monthly TTC Metropass fare has increased, my food costs have increased, and my paycheque has NOT increased. If I thought I was scraping by before, well, hello frugal living in a whole new way - and yet trying to brainstorm creative ways to add to the income, or taking on a second job, well, let's just not think about it, let alone discuss it.
It's a disease, I swear. Instead of doing whatever it is that I need to do...I shop. (GULP. Dangerous!) I read. I arrange and rearrange picture frames, tea light candle holders, furniture. I watch television occasionally, when I can find something on my miniature rabbit-eared black and white television with two channels (CBC and CTV, if you're wondering) worth watching.
The question becomes why?
Why do I intentionally put off doing things?
Things that are, at times, not even all that dreadful?
Like, for example, I procrastinate in returning a friendly phone call (yes, friends, there are times when I have to talk myself into calling you back), shooting off a quick response via email (although it doesn't help that I'm not always computer accessible), even journaling (one of the most cathartic and healing things imaginable for me) or blogging.
Yes, blogging.
Have you noticed that the posts are few and far between?
This is not always, as I often claim, because I don't have time to blog. Sometimes, I have too much time. The truth is that I feel the pressing need to be witty. To sound intellectual, to have something meaningful to say. In the absence of photos, of technological savvy that makes the blog aesthetically interesting or creatively inspiring, I have words. They better be good.
So, why do I believe I procrastinate? It's not that I'm lazy. Not at all. Or that I'm unmotivated. I have all the motivation in the world, if I'm being very honest. Or that I'm anti-social, or financially irresponsible (except when it comes to shoes).
It's the pursuit of perfection that has me paralyzed, terrified to complete whatever it is that has to get done. In essay writing, it was easier not to revise eight hundred million times. If I left it until the last minute, I had to do my best or else. In not returning a phone call, I can avoid potential conflict, boredom, anything that in any way mars the relationship. By not journaling, I can avoid the inevitable verbal diarrhea that, while an incredible release, is also not always something I want to remember of myself later on. (Add to that the fact that, not so long ago, my journals were read and ransacked and quoted back to me in one of the most unbelievable displays of authoritarian control and vicious degradation imaginable.) In the pursuit of my own dreams, well...heaven help me if it isn't easier to crawl back into a hole than be forced to succeed on the stage that is real life.
The list goes on.
Take the library books back and have to admit to over $100 in delinquency? Need another job because my carefully cultivated, often generous self cannot admit to actually being in dire straights financially? Respond to the email, the subject of which I cannot possibly have spent enough time obsessing over in order to reply coherently? Not blog because I'm so busy reading everyone else's blogs and noting their wit, their intellect, their photos and IT savvy that I can't come up with anything better and thus, refusing to lose in some ridiculous competition of my own making, I decide not to blog at all? It's problematic.
I'm determinted to be determined, not let myself intentionally and habitually put off things that should get done.
Well. I'm determined to try, at least.
I'm determinted to be determined, not let myself intentionally and habitually put off things that should get done.
Well. I'm determined to try, at least.
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