Procrastination Is Like Masterbation...you're only screwing yourself.

This shall be my checklist to help me delineate my habitual crimes of procrastination, in the midst of the act. It shall be in the form of active questions and answers.

1. Am I asking "Am I procrastination?"
(Yes. I'm procrastinating.)

2. Have I consumed a disgusting amount of chocolate and I-don't-even-know-what, as a means of "helping" me think?
(Yes. Then I procrastinated 15 minutes ago.)

3. Am I doing my daily blog past the hour of midnight--so as to not even count as part of the day?
(Yes..but it's only 41 minutes after midnight...)

4. Have I suddenly become acutely aware of all the noise in my house and have embarked on an epic (and failing) journey to silence all noises?
(Well...I didn't silence Alyse because that would have entailed killing her.)

5. Has the crack in the wall suddenly struck strangeness and meaning in my mind so as to reconcile my staring at it for several minutes on end without so much as blinking?
(I refuse to answer that question.)

With the results I have quickly gathered from myself, I suppose it is safe to say that I fall prey to procrastination, at times. For the sake of education, I find it worthy to record an account of the biological sensations attached to procrastination, and perhaps it will help to further diagnose my condition.

I maintain an outward objective to write the paper. Underneath, however, are uninvited thoughts. "Ice Cream." "YouTube." "Anything on this bloody earth besides this paper." I experience an inner conflict-a tug, to and fro, that I fear will drag me out into the wasteland of disinterest or academic self-consciousness. At that moment, I give in and seek another occupation for ten minutes, rather than confront the bubbling panic in my mind and turn off the burner of hysteria. Then my laundry becomes important. Then some kind of emotional drama dances through my consciousness. Two hours later, I am startled back into reality, and am disgusted that I've taken so long to write my thesis sentence. My initial reaction is to cry loudly and hit somebody, but there is no one in sight. (And furthermore, I have become rather more cultivated than that in my 20 years of life.) I suffice, instead, by blogging my problems away...and here I am.

Thank you for listening, I'm going to bed now.