What This Procrastinator is Really Doing

Too much talking this week.  I'm out of words.  So I'm falling back on the blogging device of going pop culture.

This "What I'm Really Doing" meme has been done to death.  It's even made it to the Buddhists.  Here's my procrastinator's angle:

Click to Enlarge

Credit to memegenerator.net, which you should visit if you want to get in your shot at this expired equine.

Epic Foot-Dragging

Some acts of procrastination rise above the ordinary.  Not content to settle for the overdue library books and filing extensions of the rank and file of delay, their perpetrators distinguish themselves with their breathtaking deadline-shredding and their eye-popping feats of tardiness.  

Such stand-outs call out for recognition.  And so I am inventing an award befitting these off-the-charts deferments.  

Think of it as an anti-award.

Kind of like Hickory High's NBA Anti-Awards,

including, e.g.,

The Shawn Bradley Award, for a player who's 6-10 or taller and has the highest percentage of his shots blocked (500-minute minimum);

The Shawn Kemp Award, for the most foulouts;

And the Nick Anderson Award, for most missed free throws in a game.

Or the Razzie Awards for worst film.

Or the SAG (Screen Actors Guild) Worst-dressed awards.

I'm calling it the African Queen Award for Egregious Postponement.

Why the African Queen Award?  In honor of director John Huston, who

engaged in legendary stalls before writing and directing many of his films

and famously finished editing The African Queen, for which he received two Oscar nominations (Best Screenplay and Best Director), only days before it opened. 

And because it sounds cool.

The criteria are pretty loose, and the judging eccentric, high-handed, and one-woman.  And the award will be given whenever circumstances dictate. 

For putting off really important stuff.  For a really long time.

Nominations, anyone?

Achievements of a Soon-to-be-Rich-and-Famous

Breaking news!

I am elated to announce that I have just sold my novel--Anything But Quiet on the Western Front--to Doubleday.  The deal specifies publication by Christmas, and a $100,000 advance.  I always knew one day my hard work would pay off, but this is beyond belief!

In an unrelated event, I ran my first ever 8-minute mile yesterday.  At this rate, I should cut last year's triathlon finishing time in half for this year's August race.

All this, and the best good-hair day of my life.

Oh, and yeah, finally getting to show off the handsprings I mastered all those years ago, in preparation for just such a confluence of events.

Sometimes, I guess, the gods really do smile down on us.

And sometimes, it's April Fools Day.

Outfitting the Compleat Procrastinator

I am constantly amazed at the scope of the cottage industry that is procrastination.  Those of us whose personal "branding" embraces delay as a key feature--and who wish to celebrate and display this identity--can find an endless supply of products designed just for this purpose.

For example, there is the"Department of Continual Procrastination" Teddy Bear, available from Cafe Press--a small stuffed white bear sporting a t-shirt printed with this fictional department's impress.  Or the button bearing this inspiring saying:  "Yeah, yeah.  Carpe Whenever."  Or for those concerned with a legacy of putting things off, baby blankets (!) printed with slogans ranging from "Born to be Late," to "I'm So Far Behind, I Thought I Was First!," to "Let the Procrastination Begin. . . (Tomorrow)."

On the somewhat gruesome side, we find a clock with hands but no numbers, which float over the legend "As a chronically depressed procrastinator, I frequently consider suicide, but  luckily, I never get around to it."  A more optimistic option:  a clock which makes a virtue of our vice with the motto "The sooner you fall behind, the more time you have to catch up."

And how about an irresistible mouse pad which advertises "Procrastination?  It's CRACK for Writers"?  Or dinner party invitations emblazoned with the imperative "Impeach Lincoln," and purporting to come from the "Southern Society of Political Procrastinators"?  Of course, these might save the day for the serious procrastinator who feels duty bound to throw a party, but isn't any more likely to pull that off than to complete other life projects.  Such a dubious invite would surely discourage guests from actually accepting.

For those of us who want other drivers to be aware of our distinguished slacker status, there are bumper stickers.  Like the one that announces "I Put 'Pro' in Procrastinator."  Alternatively, we can put those sharing the road with us on notice that  "I Never Finish Anyth. . . "   Or we can brag that "Procrastinators do it . . . . . . . . . . . . Eventually."

With throw pillows ("I'm Pro Crastination"), aprons ("I'm not wasting time, I'm a structured procrastinator"), coasters ("I don't procrastinate.  I just have different priorities.") and Christmas ornaments ("This is the earliest I've ever been late!"), our home decor can declare our laggard status.

Even Fido can get into the act, with a pet bowl ("Tomorrow I'll quit procrastinating").  And we can flaunt our procrastinating credo in yoga class with a "Procrastinate Now" yoga mat.  (Which would explain my too-frequent late arrivals.)

We can procrastinate in hats and pajamas, in t-shirts and while chugging caffeine.  We can sip from a procrastination water bottle as we run, belatedly or otherwise. 

Is it just me, or is this getting out of hand?

If you've been following along, we've just spent about  $357.64, + shipping, on the accoutrements of our trade.  We look either awful darn cute and clever, or eccentric, or pathetic and ludicrous, depending on one's tolerance level for endless slightly amusing takes on putting stuff off.  And we've now invested in this arguably dysfunctional way of life.

What's wrong with this picture?

Procrasti-what? A Word-Game for the Productively Challenged

If one is tenacious, and has unfettered access to the internet, there are seemingly endless territories to explore.  For example, I unearthed this cache of procrastination lore today, on the Urban Dictionary site.  I don't even remember exactly how I ended up there, but once in, I was amazed to find a particularly deep linguistic elaboration of the basic concept.  

Here are some examples of the hundreds of inventive terms to be found there:

procrastathon

(noun) A series of procrastination for multiple events all strung together.  For example, you have homework for 4 classes all due the same day, but instead of doing a couple and procrastinating on the others, you procrastinate on all of them at the same time.

Jimmy:  "Hey dude, you finish that stuff for your sociology and your physics classes?"

Tim:  "Nah man, I ran a procrastathon this weekend."

procrastitute
(noun) A cheap whore of dalliance and delay.
Instead of paying his electricity bill, Jonathan pissed away the afternoon playing two games of ATTACK, taking a personality test on facebook and writing a few inane definitions on urbandictionary.com.  What a procrastitute!

procrastisnack
(verb) To procrastinate for such a period of time that you get hungry and head to the fridge for a snack.
"I'm such a procrastisnacker that I gained five pounds and still haven't finished the report for tomorrow."

procrastiware
(noun) 1.  Software made to facilitate procrastination.
             2.  Software made while procrastinating.
             3.  All of the above [sic].
Facebook is really sweet procrastiware.

procrastiwriting
(gerund) working on a paper for school in small segments but continually getting distracted whether intentionally or unintentionally.
"I really can't come out tonight.  I've been procrastiwriting this paper all day and it's time to get it done."

procrastiblog
 1.  (verb)To write or comment on blog entries as a means of avoiding other activities.
 2.  (noun) An overly long blog entry that takes up so much time to read or write that work is neglected by the reader or author.  

"No, I didn't do my homework. I was up all night procrastiblogging."

Ah.  Something else to do instead of doing what we're supposed to be doing--make up a whole new lexicon of slackery.  

Visit the site if you've nothing better to do.  I defy you to coin a word that hasn't already been entered.  You get the gist. . . "procrasti_ _ _ _ _ _  [fill in the blanks]:  [(part of speech)] [ridiculous, time-wasting definition].  [Doofy sounding sentence using the new "word," as an example.]

For now, I'm procrastioutahere! 

Handy Self-Assessment Tool, ala Letterman

I am just finishing reading David Letterman's Book of Top Ten Lists and Zesty Lo-Cal Chicken Recipes, a book my comic-in-training son borrowed from the library and I found I couldn't resist on its way to being returned.  And seeing as how my posts have been trending to the heavy side of late, I decided to try my hand at Dave's form.  So today's topic--


Top 10 Signs You're a Dyed-in-the-Wool, Card-Carrying Procrastinator


10.  You write a blog--not just a post here and there, but an entire blog--devoted to the subject of procrastination.


9.  You can't remember when you sent a birthday greeting that wasn't belated.


8.  You came up with the idea of sending a post-holiday letter to friends and family--and then put that off.


7.  You started embroidering a Christmas tree skirt last century, and it's not finished.


6.  People keep getting divorced before you've gotten around to sending their wedding gifts.


5.  You have a whole section of basement storage devoted to unfinished projects.


4.  The shower in your children's bathroom has been disassembled for weeks, while you ponder a solution to the rusted-on and now threadless pipe dilemma.


3.  You're on a first-name basis with a bill collector or two, but you keep putting off mailing the checks.


2.  Instead of depositing your paycheck, you use it for a bookmark, and then panic when you return the book to the library (late of course).


1.  You planned on winning recognition as a "young novelist," but that ship sailed long ago.


So, it's official, I'm a procrastinator.  Which is why . . . (see #10).  

How to Make Myself Miserable at My First Triathlon

A number of years back--three mostly grown children ago in fact--I happened on a book that helped me laugh at all my little neurotic tics and phobias.  It was entitled How to Make Yourself Miserable:  A Vital Manual, written by Dan Greenburg with Marcia Jacobs.  This handy little guide included tongue-in-cheek instructions for extracting the most distress possible from several fairly garden-variety situations.


One that has remained in my head since reading it, probably because the description corresponds so closely to how my household, in all its various forms, has generally handled it, has to do with getting to the airport.  The reader is advised to leave just enough gas in the car to maybe make it to the airport, if all goes well.  Similarly, we should depart from home with just enough time to dash onto the plane as the door is being closed, and no margin for traffic snarls, accidents, or other contingencies.  You can see how this sets us up for a significant period of suffering, as we stress in traffic, watching the descending needle on the gas gauge, and knowing that if we stop for gas, we will definitely miss the flight.  Of course, if we don't stop, we may run out of gas and miss the flight.  And this was written pre-9-11.  Just think how much more agony can be mined from this situation today!


Of course, Greenburg's volume was really intended to show us all the ways in which we sabotage ourselves by behaving neurotically, adding to our stress levels.  Maybe it's my oppositional personality, or my Irish black humor, but I got more out of reading this laugh-out-loud handbook than out of many more direct and traditional self-help books.  So having kind of late in the game figured out that the triathlon I am preparing for is going to be, for me as for many others, largely a psychological challenge, I decided to try adapting Greenburg's approach to my own sports psychology.


Here are 8 ways to drive myself crazy at my first triathlon.

1. Visualize myself drowning, or worse, panicking and embarrassing myself.
2. Use this handy little mantra--I think I can't, I know I can't, why did I ever think I could?
3. Follow Therese Borchard's (Beyond Blue) example, detailed in this very funny post, and freak out about getting a fish in my shorts.
4. Compare myself to all the younger, fitter, faster athletes.
5. Obsess about my heart rate.
6. Keep torturing myself about whether to drop out of the race.  Use this technique in all three events, right up to the finish line.
7. Visualize paramedics standing over me.
8. Keep thinking "what if. . ."  "What if someone kicks me in the nose while swimming?"  "What if I crash into a tree on my bike?"  "What if a squirrel runs in front of me?"  

I'm sure there are some other strategies I can come up with to make my race the ordeal I clearly deserve.  But this is a start.


And seriously, if I can laugh at any or all of these ideas, that's a good thing.

Goal Disposal for Idiots

Yesterday, we established that I was laboring under too heavy a burden of goals.  And, as Neil Fiore so eloquently put it, we must “abandon unattainable goals and halfhearted wishes” if we are to succeed.  Further, he says “[i]f you cannot find the time or motivation to start working on that goal, let go of it, or it will keep haunting you, making you feel like a procrastinator...”

Since I generally have a hard time letting go of things that have ever had meaning for me, the idea of abandoning goals is somewhat harrowing.  Kind of like amputation (Will I develop phantom goals?) or divorce (Who will get custody of my psyche?). 

Dr. Fiore’s suggestions of “planned setbacks” and “mental rehearsals” gave me the notion of practicing with a preliminary group of more or less throw-away goals.  I made up the following list of fairly easy to give up aspirations:

1.    Become a minister.

2.   Get involved in community theater.

3.   Become a dance therapist.

4.   Paint the basement.

5.    Join the Peace Corps.

6.   Become a midwife.

7.   Learn Spanish.

8.   Earn a law degree.

9.   Blend my family.

10. Become a dance therapist.

11. Build a porch onto my house.

None of these objectives make sense in my life currently.  Keeping them alive makes me feel like a procrastinator.  So I am going to abandon them. 

I offer the following ideas of how to accomplish such a jettisoning.

Ten Ways to Leave Your Once-loved Dreams Behind:

1.    Write the list on a piece of paper.  Fashion a paper airplane from the page, and send it soaring.

2.    Write the list on a piece of paper.  Hop off the bus, Gus, leaving the list behind.

3.   Write the list on a piece of paper.  Tear it into pieces, deposit it in a public toilet, and flush.  Flush again.

4.   Write the list on a piece of paper.  Ignite.  Be sure to let go before the flame reaches your fingers.  Sweep up the ashes and dispose of them.

5.    Write the list on a piece of paper.  Bury it, with or without a marker, on  land you can’t frequently access.  Dance on the grave.

6.   Write the list on a piece of paper.  Put it into a bottle, and launch it out to sea.

7.   Write the list on a piece of paper.  Eat your words, perhaps with ketchup.

8.   List the goals on a blackboard (like the wall in my back bathroom).  Erase.  Chant appropriate exorcising words to prevent reappearance.

9.   Visualize the kind of person who might be able to accomplish each outgrown goal.  Release it to find a new owner.

10. Draw a cartoon/caricature of yourself having accomplished each goal on your list.  Laugh heartily.  

Obviously, I will have to dig deeper in order to hone my focus.  But now I will have some tools to use in effecting the required removal.  (Why do I feel like Harry Potter in my kids’ video game, dashing around the Weasley’s garden doing battle with gnomes?)

Guilt-free Play: My Top 31

The last two days, I have been trying to implement Neil Fiore's advice (in The Now Habit:  A Strategic Program for Overcoming Procrastination and Enjoying Guilt-Free Play), interspersing "play" with short periods of focused work.  I am pretty enthusiastic about this approach, so far.  I'm not sure whether the production of the following list should be considered work or play, but isn't such blending kind of what we're supposed to be after?  Anyway, I had fun thinking about pleasant work-break activities.  I offer my favorites, and encourage my readers to spend some time coming up with their own.  

1. Coffee with my husband
2. Yoga
3. Meditation
4. Reading
5. Sitting outside in the sunshine, dark, early morning, late afternoon, midday
6. Walking my dog
7. Swimming
8. Running
9. Biking
10. Playing my piano
11. Doing crossword puzzles
12. Knitting
13. Gardening
14. Reading to my grandson
15. Reading aloud with my husband
16. Watching movies
17. Listening to music
18. Sitting in front of a fire
19. Calling my sister
20. Shopping at garage sales, consignment shops and Goodwill
21. Playing games with my family
22. Going to the library
23. Cup of tea
24. Relaxing conversation with any of my three kids
25. Writing poetry
26. Listening to radio, especially This American Life, Speaking of Faith
27. Reading blogs (Some of my go-to blogs--Beyond Blue, The Happiness Project, 1000 Awesome Things, Think Simple Now, Unclutterer, FlyLady, Wildmind)
28. Hammock time
29. Singing
30. Dancing
31. Watching comedy reruns

So, now I'm done with my post for this morning.  I should just about have time to squeeze in one of these before heading out to work.  I think I'll take my list with me, just in case.

Big Time Procrastinators

I was clicking my way around the web this morning, looking for an alternative to the scheduled topic I had decided I didn't want to write about, when I happened upon this gem.  It is an article written by David Leonhardt --"The Happy Guy,"--entitled "Hurry Up and Procrastinate."  Leonhardt refers to a contest to find "America's Biggest Procrastinator," and offers "tips to becoming a champion procrastinator" and examples of heroic level procrastinating.  Be sure to read it if you need to lighten up about your imperfect work habits on this day that used to be the end of the work week, in a bygone era.  Which makes me wonder, now that Friday is just another day in our super-connected endless tail-chasing lives, T.G.I. what?


After chuckling my way through Leonhardt's clever piece, I tried to find out more about the contest he spoke of.  I found a link to a contest sponsored by Weisman Success Resources, a success coaching company based in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., which ran from January 15 through March 14 in 2004.  Though many top drawer procrastinators might just now be getting around to submitting applications, unfortunately the application link is no longer live.  I could not find any announcement of a winner.


So, like all good web surfers, I decided to follow a thread I did turn up.  Which led to this fascinating list of famous procrastinators, culled from a number of sites.  Like many such lists, the criteria are not well-defined, and many would quarrel with the inclusion of some on the roster.  But as an antidote to shame, and in the interests of further insight into the problem, I present the following collection, grouped by source, with links to further documentation, anecdotes, and other such "credentials."

Famous Procrastinators:  A Partial List

Bill Clinton
Naomi Campbell
Robert Redford
[According to Diana DeLonzor, author of Never Be Late Again, 7 Cures for the Punctually Challenged]

Neville Chamberlein
Agatha Christie
John Huston
St. Augustine
Leonardo da Vinci
Samuel Coleridge
Douglas Adams
[from Piers Steel's Procrastination Central site: under Case Studies]

Scarlet O’Hara
[from Straighten-Up-Now.com]

Albert Einstein
Poincaré
Isaac Asimov
Jerry Yang and David Filo (founders of Yahoo)
Sergey Brin and Larry Page (founders of Google)
[From Jorge Cham, (creator of the Comic Strip Piled High and Deeper (PHD)]

Bill Clinton (again)
Duke Ellington
Wong Kar-wai
the Messiah[From Jessica Winter's Village Voice article, "Procrastination 101: The Science of Putting it Off"]

Proust
Tristam Shandy
Ken Livingstone
Guns N’ Roses
U2
[from London Times article, "Formula for overcoming procrastination ... what are the chances?" by John Harlow]

So you see, those of us who battle this dreaded affliction are in good, and even Godly company.  We, too, could be great, or at least well-known--eventually.  

Fun With Procrastination

Two weeks late (naturally) for National Procrastination Week (Mar. 1-7), here are some fun diversions, toys and tools for fellow procrastinators.

1.  The Task Juggler, By Dan Alcantara  


This is a gadget you can add to your iGoogle homepage, if you have one.  You list tasks that need to be done, and then activate the juggler.  This part electronic nag, part timer will present you with a randomly selected task to work on for ten minutes, then instruct you to take a two minute break before tackling another randomly selected task for ten minutes, etc.  I have this handy little item on my homepage, but find it all too easy to ignore as I cover it with active windows on my computer screen.  It needs an auditory signal to let the user know when to switch between tasks and breaks.  For those of us who are somewhat oppositional, it can be one more authority figure to resist.

2.  365 Days of Procrastination Daily Planner 2010 Planner

 

Here's the product description, which says it all:

The essential guide for both seasoned procrastinators and those still mastering the art of slacking off. Whether you're a seasoned procrastinator or still mastering the art of slacking off this daily planner pad is the ultimate tool for reducing efficiency. A complete waste of time in and of itself, it is guaranteed to help you accomplish the minimum amount of work in the maximum amount of time.

3.   The Procrastinator Website's Timewasting Page

This page offers "online activities that have been designed specifically to waste as much of your valuable time as possible."


Check out the rest of this clever site if you still have time.

4. Wall Poster  

The site offering this somewhat depressing product allows you to change the wording and add your own image, in case you are reform-minded.  


5. T-shirt 

The headless model of this rumpled garment looks like a procrastinator to me!

6.  Procrastinator's Watch 

Though the image is a bit cartoonish, this is a real watch that you can order and wear, if your schedule is more approximate than precise.


More products like this are available from (where else?) Procrastination.com--where the motto is "Procrastination . . . no longer a character flaw, but a lifestyle alternative. . ." 

7.  My You Tube Procrastination Playlist


Something I put together in my spare time.  And there's a lot more where these came from.


Have a great weekend, and try not to do too much.  We'll be back on the horse Monday-ish.

Ten Time-Tested Time Wasters

Wasted time is on my mind this morning.  Could it have something to do with having agreed to spend what turned out to be two full hours last night on the receiving end of a "free" carpet cleaning?  Of course, there's no such thing as a free lunch, or carpet cleaning, or laptop whose lure keeps "popping up" on my computer screen.  A lesson I should have learned long ago, you might think.  


But years of drift, which might sound like but has little in common with the "flow" we keep hearing so much about, have strengthened some bad habits.  One of these is reflexive agreeability.  Since I haven't always had the clearest idea of what I wanted and needed to be doing with my time, I have been pretty sloppy about allowing others to claim large chunks of it.  Last night may have served as an inoculation.  


The young man who used his amazing machine to pull up disgusting amounts of dog hair and what he discretely referred to as "human ash" from my 30-year-old once-terra-cotta wall-to-wall was doomed from the get-go.  What he was trying to sell me came with a sticker price equivalent to a functional car my teenagers would die for.  Or the medical bills we are struggling to pay as my professor-husband's salary shrinks with involuntary furloughs.  Or the amount  my human-vacuum teenage boys would like to spend on fast food in a month.  No way to squeeze the low, low monthly payments into the household red ink columns.  All in all, an all-around waste of time.


So with this experience fresh, I have jotted down a few things I mean to do less of.  Notice I have not said "avoid entirely."  A certain amount of off-task activity may be needed to keep me sane.  And I've already given up "Countin' flowers on the wall....Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo."


Ten Time-Tested Time Wasters

1. Agreeing to stuff just to be agreeable.  See above.
2. Farming on Facebook.  If I don't visit the game page, I don't have to see my withered crops and fallow fields.
3. Playing Solitaire 'til Dawn.  Yes, it was mentioned in the Statler Brothers' song referenced above.  The addictive computer game borrowed the name, but does at least allow the "user" to play with a full deck, not the song's clearly futile "deck of 51." 
4. Googling old lost friends and acquaintances.  Not really compatible with the "be here now" maxim I aspire to.
5. Attending meetings with "time-wasting morons."  Scott Adams had this one right.  I would add that doing so automatically makes me one.
6. Finishing books I've lost interest in, just because I started reading them.
7. Surfing the net in general, looking for dread diseases I might have, arcane solutions to household problems, freebies I could pick up from Freecycle, or incredible deals on Craigslist and ebay.
8. Aimless shopping.  Enough said.
9. Taking out so many library books that I could never read them all, and renewing them so many times that I end up having to dust them.
10. Feeling bad about all the time I've wasted in the past.

Having admitted publicly to indulging in such low priority activities may prove antidotal.  It should at least raise the profile of time wasters, so that I am more acutely aware of their cumulative effect.  And increase the squirm factor should I start to slide.

You Might be a Procrastinator if…

The list below may be a bit too wordy for a t-shirt, but is intended to provide the kind of small chuckle that could just keep us sane--more or less.

You Might be a Procrastinator if…

1. Your mirror is littered with urgent to-do (but still undone) post-its from more than 5 years ago.
2. You still have maternity clothes in your closet, and your youngest is a teenager.
3. Your bills are in arrears, despite (sort of) having the money to pay them.
4. The person you were going to send a sympathy card to “right away” is now dead her/himself.
5. Library overdue fines are a standard part of your budget.
6. A household improvement you began 10 years ago remains unfinished.
7. You put off buying tickets for a planned trip and now have to fly standby.
8. You routinely mail presents six or more months after the event.
9. Your mending pile is full of items that no longer fit anyone in your house.
10. You are blogging about procrastination.
11. Six or seven stalled-out major work projects lie in wait on your desk.
12. You just can't make yourself "act now," even though "operators are standing by."
13. Way too many of your ships have sailed without you.

Not the definitive list but hey, it’s Friday, and I’ve worked hard all week.  I’m going off to play.  Just have to get dressed (it’s only 11:00), make my way around the piles of bills, unmailed sympathy cards, and deserted ship docks, and find the door.

And Now, For Something Completely Different...

After two days of death and (not) mourning (all that well), a change of pace seems in order. Therefore, I present the following for the amusement of my husband, my sister, my one blog-visiting son and my daughter, my twelve selectively clued-in Facebook friends, and whoever has wandered here from New Jersey, Michigan, Alabama, and parts unknown. It is purloined from Basic Jokes:  Clean Jokes for a Dirty World.


The Procrastinators' Creed

1. I believe that if anything is worth doing, it would have been done already.
2. I shall never move quickly, except to avoid more work or find excuses.
3. I will never rush into a job without a lifetime of consideration.
4. I shall meet all of my deadlines directly in proportion to the amount of bodily injury I could expect to receive from missing them.
5. I firmly believe that tomorrow holds the possibility for new technologies, astounding discoveries, and a reprieve from my obligations.
6. I truly believe that all deadlines are unreasonable regardless of the amount of time given.
7. I shall never forget that the probability of a miracle, though infinitesmally small, is not exactly zero.
8. If at first I don't succeed, there is always next year.
9. I shall always decide not to decide, unless of course I decide to change my mind.
10. I shall always begin, start, initiate, take the first step, and/or write the first word, when I get around to it.
11. I obey the law of inverse excuses which demands that the greater the task to be done, the more insignificant the work that must be done prior to beginning the greater task.
12. I know that the work cycle is not plan-start-finish, but is wait-plan-plan.
13. I will never put off until tomorrow, what I can forget about forever.
14. I will become a member of the ancient Order of Two-Headed Turtles (the Procrastinator's Society) if they ever get it organized.

I have not personally upheld all of these principles, though I have seen most of them in action. Number 11--raising to the level of law the frittering that expands in proportion to the significance of the task we are putting off--is particularly useful. It apparently inspired my ex-husband, who finished his dissertation, to do so only after spending the better part of a month training a squirrel prodigy to approach our front steps and lie spread-eagle on the sidewalk in response to his command. 

Number 8, the "always next year" dodge, has been my personal mantra for as long as I can remember. Number 6, which proclaims the unreasonableness of all deadlines, claims the allegiance of generations of my family, thus being something of a legacy. (We don't even acknowledge the incontrovertibility of Christmas, often mailing gifts months later.) Number 14, however, with the two-headed turtle, I'm not sure I really get. I could try to figure it out, but Number 13 seems to advise otherwise. And besides, adhering to Number 4, I'm not greatly concerned about injuring myself should I fail to decode it. 

I am, of course, supposed to be in the process of putting all this procrastinating, and the religion it celebrates, behind me. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to free myself from this cult, or if kidnapping followed by intensive reprogramming will be necessary.