I’m notorious for my procrastination, and I’m okay with that. Unlike many who suffer with procrastination, I am not ashamed. I think that it’s okay to do the things that make me happy before dragging myself to my laptop to start up my big paper that is due in four hours.
Once I had a huge project due on a Monday. It was 50% of my grade and given over a month before. Making it due on a Monday was my teacher’s effort at giving procrastinators one last chance to get it together. I had been off to an almost nonexistent start. That Friday, I went out with my best friend just to celebrate another day. We had a great night. Double feature at the movies, dinner at Olive Garden, in late and asleep by three. I woke up after noon on Saturday, went out for a late breakfast with my sister and spent the rest of the day with family. That Sunday, after an incredible sleep, I read a new book for a while and just when I started to get into the story of Ducati and her female motorcycle gang, my mom yelled upstairs with a motherly screech to tell me to wash the dishes before I went to bed. It was past nine. I had to start and finish a term project by 7:30 the next morning.
I was in the dark of my mom’s room, who was the only one with a computer at the time, trying not to wake her. I played my iPod loud in my earphones, skipping over every Jill Scott and India.Arie song, replacing it with OutKast and Pink’s latest as to not have my eyelids serenaded, this is a sure way to bring them together. I cranked out each phony interview with Alexander Hamilton and “expert analysis” of the Great Compromise every half hour, with era appropriate advertisements sprinkled in between. I finished it like I always do and I was pretty proud of myself. A twenty page newspaper in ten hours, ten straight hours, ten straight hours with no sleep, leading seamlessly into the school bell the next morning. But, it was complete.
Today, I don’t remember the stress, how intense my headache was the next day in school, or my spelling errors. But, I do remember my A- and the fun that I had that weekend, that month. I would much rather cram a bunch of forgettable stress into a solid ten hours than stretch it over a month of miserable days, and well slept nights.
My parents call me lazy and crazy and wonder why I don’t start my work earlier, but I think that the most important things are my two o’clock breakfast dates with my sister and late night movie goes with friends. I believe that savoring life is more important than drawing out the things that stress you out the most when you could compact them into one long night.
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