Procrastination takes coordination

It is remarkable all the things that become appealing, nay, essential to do when you're trying to put something else off. I really thought I'd be finished with this phenomenon when I finished school, but I was so wrong. I still look at the filthy bathroom for days on end until something important I don't really want to do comes up then, bang - how can I do that when the bathroom is so dirty?

It isn't always something I don't want to do that I'm avoiding. Sometimes I'm just a little stuck and lost for direction in one of my many jobs and am trying to avoid facing that creative or writer's block. I am sometimes impressed with the creative ways I get out of doing things although it is usually through household tasks - who can fault you for buying groceries? A person has to eat.

Sometimes, the one of the things I've been avoiding doing becomes more appealing than some other, bigger thing I'm avoiding so the first avoided task gets done while avoiding the second. I should really avoid using the word avoid any more in this rant. Updating Vertigogirl.com sometimes is one of those tasks.

My procrastinatory skills pale in comparison with the master. You've met this character before in Soap is NOT an accessory. You got it, the star of the rant today is Frenchie!

Never in my life have I met someone as adept at procrastinating than my roommate, Frenchie. It is astounding how much time he can spend not doing his homework. Still a university student, Frenchie has to spend a lot of time writing essays. He manages to spend about 5 times the time it would take to write the essay, actively (or passively, I suppose) not writing the essay. Then, either the night before it's due or the night before the due date extension ends, he spends an all nighter listening to eardrum shatteringly loud music (through headphones, thankfully) in the dark in front of the computer, trying to put the information in his head onto that bright little screen (with no written outline of any kind), punctuated with breaks involving wandering around the house, practicing karate and drinking tea. The cats, of course, try to get an extra breakfast or at least a midnight snack out of the situation but they've only managed to pull it off once.

The next morning or afternoon he goes racing out of the apartment to print the paper at the University (no ink in his printer for at least a year, it may not even work but it sits on the desk) and hand it in. He then comes home and falls asleep fully dressed on top of the covers to begin a wacky sleep schedule. All these steps are then repeated the next time an essay is due. Believe me, we've lived with him for a year and a half and it happens every time.

Hey, this is no big deal. Everyone has their own style of learning and writing, right. I guess I just get too much of a motherly-type reaction that makes me want him to learn from the experience and do it differently the next time. "That night was really stressful, why don't I start earlier and be more organized for this next one."

Why do I care? I don't know. It's probably that I'm even more anal retentive and (generally) organized than I am a procrastinator and couldn't possibly operate under those stress conditions. Maybe it's because none of his professors ever seem to turn him down for extensions even though it's because he's simply not getting it together soon enough rather than any extrordinary circumstances. I suppose I should be casual, if he can get away with it he may as well, but besides anything else those all nighters can't be good for his blood pressure. Those stress levels and all the bacon and cheese and alfredo sauce and butter are a really volatile combination (okay, I just may be grasping at straws to tie in my health care profession instead of just being uptight - the latter is probably more true, though).

I should take some comfort, though. No matter what lengths I've gone to to avoid getting some sort of work done, I'm still not as much of a procrastinator as Frenchie. Okay, that isn't much comfort at all, but I'm trying.

PS. As of January 3, 2001, Frenchie has still not handed in an essay due in June 2000. I am not kidding. !