Procrastination has such a bad reputation. Undeservedly so. Think about it. Those who do not procrastinate never have time to enjoy themselves, even after a hard day's work at the day job. They're always too busy obeying that nagging voice in their minds that keeps reminding them of the bills to be paid ... the phone calls to return ... the beds to make ... the floors to wash ... the kids' homework to check ... the errands to run ... the checkbook to balance ... the toilets to scrub. These poor suckers complete one task, and a dozen others demand attention. The doers never catch up. Their only hope is to learn the ancient art of procrastination.
Yes, ancient. Procrastination originated in Eden, you see, when Eve was propositioned by a snake in the grass who promised to put her on the cover of the first issue of Vogue in exchange for her soul. Tempted by the prospect of fame and fortune as the universe's first top model, she nagged Adam to gather some flax and weave her a suitably chic outfit. But Adam kept saying, "Maybe later."
In reality, Adam was no slouch. And no fool. He simply preferred Eve in her birthday suit. Furthermore, he knew if he spent all day weaving, he wouldn't have time to do the things he enjoyed — such as taking bites from Eve's apple, which he may not have been inclined to do had she been wrapped in flax.
Unfortunately, early historians erroneously blamed the couple's eviction from Eden, not on Eve's avarice and lust for fame, but on Adam's delay in granting her unreasonable demand. And so it came to pass that "procrastination" became a dirty word, a misconception that has persisted throughout the ages.
In the prehistoric centuries that followed, there was little need for anyone to emulate Adam's delaying tactics because people had very few obligations. No Rotary Club meetings, no office hours, no church services, no dentist appointments. No one could read or write, so To Do lists were unknown.
In short, during that period there was seldom any incentive to practice procrastination, except for occasional exceptions such as when the family got hungry and the wife would nag her napping husband to go kill dinner. Even though the cave man had never learned about Adam, an atavistic impulse would kick in, and he'd grunt, "UGH$#%@&!" ("Maybe later.")
Procrastination really came into its own in the era when the Greeks discovered Democracy. As we all know, legislative bodies never get anything done. This same period, according to historians, spawned the empty promises, "I'll take care of it" and "The check is in the mail."
Later, during the Renaissance, schools proliferated, the arts blossomed, literature flourished, and accomplishment became a prime goal — further challenging man's ingenuity to find ways to avoid responsibility. Take, for example, Michelangelo's painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. It is a recorded fact that when he submitted his estimate, he promised, "A year, eighteen months at the outside, counting pasta breaks." But one thing led to another, and before the Vatican VIPs realized it, thirty years had passed and Mickey still hadn't completed the job.
Other notable procrastinators in fiction include Scarlett O'Hara, who lived by the philosophy, "I'll think about that tomorrow," and Hamlet who kept putting off his decision of whether to be or not to be.
Thousands of other fictional and real slackers through the years understood that one of the prime benefits of procrastination is ego gratification. They realized that if you actually tackle a project and botch it, there's no turning back. Everyone will know you failed. On the other hand, if you keep putting a job off, you can tell yourself (and everyone else) that you could do it brilliantly — if you had the time. Maybe later.
Most people have been brainwashed to believe that procrastinators are slothful, lazy clods. Not so. We are constantly busy, but only with activities we fancy, rather than the unpleasant, boring tasks which society tries to impose on us. In truth, procrastinators lead rich, full lives that lack only the three D's: Drudgery, Duty and Deadlines.
The conscientious accomplisher, on the other hand, ruled by these same three D's, never has time for R&R, even when he has completed a difficult task. Because the sooner and the better he does it, the more in demand he is for the next job waiting to be done. Once on that treadmill, the harder he runs, the faster he generates more work for himself. Because of the lack of proper education in this area, too many unfortunates trudge this treadmill of accomplishment from infancy to senility, never once tasting the joys of procrastination.
Why has the plight of this miserable majority been ignored? Certainly not for lack of good intentions. In fact, thousands of studies of this international tragedy have been initiated over the centuries. Unfortunately, not one has ever been completed. You can help by demanding legislative action to create head-start programs to help the disadvantaged — those unfortunate overachievers, the compulsive go-getters. Write your Congressman today ... or tomorrow ... next month ... whenever you get around to it. In fact, you can use thinking about writing that letter as an excuse for putting off an even more distasteful task, like cleaning the roof gutters or changing the baby.
Meanwhile, why not visit a bookstore? Just think of the wonderfully unproductive hours you can spend, purposelessly browsing the aisles, flipping through the latest best sellers, travel tomes, cookbook collections, and so much more. Be scrupulously careful, however, to avoid the self-help section that invariably includes manuals on organizing your life, managing your time, setting goals, and other such odious topics.
I really need a closing paragraph for this essay. A couple of pithy quotes from some recognized authorities would tie it up nicely, but who? I suppose I could do some research.
Maybe later.
Rose Mula was an executive
assistant, a public relations specialist, and an operations manager
for a New England theater chain before discovering a passion for
writing. She has written business and trade articles to earn a
living, and humor for the fun of it.
Her work has appeared
in The Saturday Evening Post, Yankee, Modern Maturity, The
Christian Science Monitor, The Reader's Digest, The Philadelphia
Inquirer, The Baltimore Sun, and more than six dozen other
magazines and newspapers. Actually-thousands of newspapers, since
one of her essays, The
Stranger in My Mirror (originally titled, The Stranger
in My House), was reprinted in Ann Landers' nationally syndicated
column in 1999, without Rose's byline. Ms. Landers explained that
she had received it from her cousin in Phoenix and wanted to share
it with her readers even though she didn't know the author. When
Rose left a phone message for her, Landers herself returned the
call personally, with gracious compliments and apologies, and
she promptly printed an attribution.
Meanwhile, Rose did
some sleuthing and found her Stranger running rampant (and
nameless) on dozens of websites, all but one of which claimed
no prior knowledge of the author but were happy to hear from her
and add her name. The exception was the owner of a site who claimed
she had had the story for over twenty years. Not true, Rose pointed
out, because in the essay she mentioned VCRs, which were very
rare back then, and ATMs, which didn't exist for years later.
Rose never was able
to identify the original kidnapper who stole her Stranger away.
A couple of years before, her hometown newspaper, The Andover
Townsman, published it. She assumes that a reader scanned
it, without her byline, and started the whole distribution chain
by e-mailing it to a friend who decided to share it with other
cyber pals. And the saga continues to this day, the Stranger is
still popping up in e-mails across the nation. Rose wishes she
herself can achieve the same immortality. Meanwhile, she can reached
by e-mail.
Rose's book, The Stranger in My Mirror and Other Reflections is available by special order from most book stores, or on the web at www.amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com
