So nearly two hours ago, I sat down with the intention of getting started on writing this blog post for today. And, as usual, I found myself looking for inspiration--from news posts to links John sent to me over Skype, to e-mail, to posts people made on Facebook. And in the end, in spite of all the wonderful information I've gleaned (from the fact that it's freakishly cold to how I'm not going to die from radiation poisoning from Fukushima,) I found myself stalling until I could find something about which there was something worth writing. This, coincidentally, prompted me to read an article about writing, which in turn led to me writing today's blog on procrastinating.
Before John's dad returned from Russia, we had six months to get ready for that inevitable outcome. In those six months, I think we managed to do pretty much a lot of nothing. Then came that looming "last month" where we realized that we didn't have much time left, and we consoled ourselves with the fact that we still had time. Inevitably, we got down to the last two weeks before he was to come home, and suddenly we were a frenzy of activity. After all, we were good at procrastinating. We knew what we needed to do, and we knew how much time we needed to get it all done.
What we didn't take into account was that his dad's step-son would be moving back in with us just after Thanksgiving.
If you've ever been really good at procrastinating, you can well imagine how that last bit of news made all of our plans and planning fly right out the window. It sent me into a spiral of depression, and effectively changed everything we had planned to do before his dad got home.
I make a point of telling you this story, because I think it's not really that uncommon--even when we aren't procrastinating.
I could try and make some witty observations here about not procrastinating, or how procrastinating will or won't make your life easier/harder. But I have a feeling that, like all great art, procrastination requires a lot of practice; and while some people are naturally talented at it, there are plenty of people who have to work at it.
I can imagine some of you out there wondering why anyone would want to procrastinate, and there are likely others of you who know exactly what I'm talking about when I say that procrastination is an art--which leads me to this:
No matter which side of the aisle you fall on with regard to procrastination, what matters isn't the procrastination or the lack of it, but whether or not you're happy with the results.
So maybe I'm a little less confused about radiation (though I'll admit this is not likely,) and maybe I've learned that nature is still able to do things that makes me glad I live where I do; I even got a chance to read an article that made me ponder the truth about whether or not I'm actually a writer at all (though I'm inclined to believe that not every writer follows the same rules as every other writer). And though it kept me from writing this post sooner (and likely accomplishing more with my day), I feel that this blog would be the poorer had I not taken the time to stop and smell the roses.
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