The hard work of being a procrastinator.
Procrastination. The word and behaviour that kills the hopes and dreams of many a man and woman.
The fact I’m writing about procrastination is ironic in itself, considering the last time I wrote about anything was back in January.
January, Dave. It’s June now, kid.
Personally, there’s many things I could lob out there as to why I haven’t pushed myself to be as active as my head tells me to be. Moving house, moving dog, training for a half-marathon, training for Octoberfest every other weekend. Work is full-on, and then life is even more so on top of that. Oh, and these days I enjoy my beauty sleep more than ever.
But as you’ll see, all of the feeble reasonings above are just excuse after excuse as to why I haven’t put any time in to myself, and push on what I want to achieve. Outside of work, running, Hip Hopping, and yes, procrastinating.
The worst thing about procrastination is you’re so aware you’re doing it when you’re doing it. And you know you’re doing it to put off something else. Tomorrow never comes. But alas, it actually does. And next thing you know another week has rolled by and Monday has hit you hard in the testes and rat race of life once again.
I’m not sitting here declaring I’m going to take over the world, but I know I’m capable of taking over something. I wasn’t built for the sleep-work-eat-Netflixandchill-repeat scheduled chain of events. None of us were, and I don’t believe none of us should be.
For me, I do enjoy my work and what I do everyday, it’s taking me a while to get there. But I know work doesn’t and will not define me as a person. What I want to define me is how I view the world, things, people, situations, friendships and relationships. Because in my opinion, why would you want to view the world the same way as someone else? Who wants to be classified as a ‘normal’ person doing ‘normal’ things, and conforming to society’s expectations of the Monday-Friday work week?
God help the Lord if this four-day working week comes in to fruition. And God help you lot, because all I’ll do then is moan (from the sofa) about how much more time I have to not do anything I promise I’ll do with my three-day weekend.
Imagine that, me moaning, about anything?!
I write this more so out of frustration with myself, than others. It doesn’t take much for me to be derailed and half distracted from sitting down and figuring out what else I want to be doing with my time. All you’ve gotta’ do is stick something flimsy on (Selling Sunset, my fave), and you’ve lost me for the night/weekend.
Actually, The Kardashians has me at the minute. Can someone please tell me why Scott Disick is still getting airtime? I need to know, urgently. Thanks in advance.
See how quick that attention span from one reality drivel to another lasted?
Those blurry, cloudy dreams I have are something I’m still trying to figure out and visualise. Will they be in writing, music, trainers, fashion, who knows. I might shock everyone and become domesticated superstar, DIY Dave. I can’t see that happening somehow, considering that means I would actually have to do it myself, and not be allowed to settle in, heavily at home, and squarebox my way through the evening.
I’ve just spent the last few hundred words and five minutes of your time expressing how annoyed I am at how much time I waste. And now how the irony of the words proactive and procrastination both starting with the same three letters is not lost on me.
Everyday we/I choose which one we’ll be, and that’s something we have to be accountable for, no matter how many times I move house, move mountains during the hours of 9–5, or move to a different part of the sofa.
You might hear from me again in six days, or six months. I don’t mean to toy with your emotions, but this is just the kind of life I’m currently living. I’m trying to fix it, you should read my blog about it.
The choice, they say, is ours. Let’s see which one I work with.
