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4/15/2004
Render to Caesar
My name is Ambra (crowd responds, "Hi Ambra!") and I am a procrastinator. I've had this problem since birth. My mother was in the delivery room for many many hours simply because I was intent on waiting until the absolute last minute to come down the birth canal. I am certain I had good reason as I do for all my occasions of procrastination. Maybe the amniotic fluid was warmer than usual that day and I wanted to stay in just a little bit longer. I still came out right on time! Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people that does a half-"Biblical word for donkey" job on everything. I am an absolute perfectionist with a procrastination problem. The result of that combonation is a horrendously insane and pyschotic person who self-imposes temporary spurts of miserableness, adreneline rushes, and dictatorship to get things done.
In high school I mastered the art of the one-hour term paper. That is, the 2000-word essay that even if it may seem as though I put in some good hard work, was only written about 30 minutes ago, proofread, spell-checked and on your desk as promised. I wasn't the only one who possessed this talent. By Spring of my senior year, my entire graduating class could whip out an expository essay on The Great Gatsby with one hand on the steering wheel, driving to school. I probably would've written my valediction speech the night before graduation if it weren't for the fact that I had to have it approved a week earlier by an advisor (who by the way, probably just wanted to make sure I wasn't planning on preaching hellfire and brimstone during commencement). In high school, procrastination was sweet. It was a carefree life with little to no consequences.
I soon found out that I could carry my procrastination over to college. In fact, in college it was even more rewarding. The "one-hour term paper" became the night-before-it's-due 90-page research thesis. My peak time was Midnight to 4am the day before it was due. That's when I wrote every last one of my papers in college. It became a game to me. I had my strategy down. Caffeine, a little prayer, some music, and my laptop was all I needed. There was a rush about staying up all night to write a paper and then crashing the next morning. In all honesty, I can say that was when I pushed out some of my best work. I suprisingly had about 80% less grammatical errors when I wrote in a half sleep-deprived haze. Procrastination became my drug. I needed more. Give something, please, anything on which to procrastinate. Another assignment due in two months you say? Sure! That'll give me plenty of time to re-decorate my room. How about buying my plane ticket home for winter break, why not wait until the last minute and use priceline.com? Maybe you'll get a first class seat Ambra. Or better yet, maybe you'll get a flight with 23 connections on Southwest Airlines. Plus, it'll be fun to see how nervous you can make your parents when you tell them you don't have a plane ticket yet. So I must have my housing deposit in by the 10th of the month at noon you say? Well, "University Housing", you will be glad to know that I am currently training for a triatholan so I will be waiting until 11:45am on the 10th in order to leave myself enough time sprint across campus, run 11 flights of stairs and turn in my deposit. I actually needed the excercise anyway.
Then I became an adult, and procrastination wasn't humorous anymore. Oh how the tax man cometh. Filling out a 1040 form is not like writing a term paper. Funny how I am reminded of this reality on April 15, Tax Day of all days. It was only three days ago that I phoned my accountant to do my taxes. I filed on April 12th this year and that's a vast improvement from last year.
posted by ambra at 4/15/2004 10:41:27 AM | link to this entry |
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