"I have made procrastinating an art form, one that I practice each and every day..." But no one is impressed, which really bothers me. My boss and colleagues just could not understand this ancient philosophy, so I ended up, well, unemployed, but I will find another job next week. Today, it is time to smell the roses. Where are the roses? Somewhere on the other side of town in a park. Maybe I will go there tomorrow. Right now, I am practicing my art in the middle of the city’s finest art museum. I sit on a leather bench jin front of Michelangelo’s best work, The Thinker, another procrastinator, but one who is enjoyed by millions of people. What is his secret? I wonder and stare at his solid metal form, the ultimate in immobility. Perhaps, it is his posture. I move my body into the same posture. My chin on my hand, my body moving forward, as if ready to move, but no, the facial expression clearly shows that he is thinking deeply about the next step and is waiting for the right opportunity, just like me. It hits me—I am The Thinker of this century. I stand and spin like a whirling Dervish. My lethargy has floated away, and I jump for joy and spin more, energy coming into my body, like a whirlpool plunging into the deep, blue sea. Turbulent crests of white foam are ejected from my mouth as I shout, “I know who I am! I know what to do! It is my destiny to teach you the way.”
I have made procrastinating an art form, one that I practice each and every day. In this article, I am going to tell you all about it.But let me check my Facebook first.So my friend shared this photo of a very nicely shaped avocado. But I don't know why she shared it. She just wrote 'MOM'. Maybe it's some kind of inside joke.Hold on, my girlfriend just texted me. She is talking about bumping into a random friend blah blah blah. She is planning to start a new meetup group, and asking for my opinion.Actually, I found this interesting meetup group the other day. The group seemed rather successful. I should send the link to her. What was the name of the group again?Hey, there's a new professional networking group. I need to check them out. I have the impression that there are growing numbers of new groups. I like the trend. There're more opportunities to socialise.Oh, I recognise a guy on group's member's list. I met him a couple of times before. I wonder what business he was in. I'm going to check his LinkedIn profile.Oops, it's almost 10 minutes now. I should wrap it up. What was I writing about again.?
Procrastination, plane, panicHe had made procrastinating an art form, one that he practiced each and every day...And now here he was, la de da, getting ready to die. The plane that he’d procrastinated so long about had left without him, which was why he was here, on this, the next one, which had run into a spot of turbulence. It kept hitting an updrafts, rising on the updrafts with such violence that Bob’s stomach seemed to reach down and touch his bladder; the hollows that followed felt like the plane had halted in midair and was now plummeting off a cliff. Bob kept rising, weightless, from his seat, then stuffing back into it. The plane was bucking like a bronco, hitting each successive gust like an enraged, feral horse, leaping and slamming, intent on unseating the pesky humans clinging to its back. The passenger next to him, an overweight middle-aged dude in a sweat-drenched, vomit-stained suit, was locked in an accelerating cycle of panic, and was now on the verge of truly flipping out. His eyes were so wide they were bulging out of their sockets, and shone in the gloom of the emergency lights. “Jesus God, oh my dear lord, we’re going to die!” Bob could hear a shrill edge of panic in the guy’s voice. Bob peered out his window. The plane was riding the bumps so hard the wings were flexing and flapping like a bird’s. The guy next to him was gesticulating now, fidgeting, bouncing in his seat, out of time with the heaving of the plane. Finally he unbuckled his seatbelt. “We’re crashing!” he bellowed. “Jesus God, I have to tell them!” “I think they probably know.” “We’re crashing! The crew is already gone! They left us to die!” “Don’t be stupid.” “We’re all going to die!” the guy tried to climb over Bob, but the plane heaved upward suddenly and launched him into Bob’s lap. Bob was running out of patience. “Oh for Christ’s sake,” he said, grabbing the guy’s collar and dragging him back into his seat. “Yes, we’re all going to die. But maybe not today. Ok? Now sit down and put your seatbelt on, like a man.” The guy glared at him, pouting, and obeyed.
I have a reputation among my friends for being able to put things off indefinitely. I like to tell them “I have made procrastinating an art form, one that I practice each and every day.” But, today has to be different so I’ll start on it right now. But, I always work best when I’ve had a deep, rich cup of espresso. Oh, crap, I don’t have an espresso machine. Guess, I can just run over to Bic Camera and see if they have one on sale. But, first I have to get out of bed and that means I’ll have to actually push the covers off me. So, perhaps, I can do this in increments – first push the bedspread down below my feet, now bend my legs and slide them over the side of the bed. Now, sit and stand up in one graceful motion. Oh, oh! My back is just the tiniest bit sore from all the sitting in bed I did yesterday while I read the last chapter of the thriller I just had to finish, so I have to take some painkiller. Let’s take this one slow step at a time. Now, let’s see where exactly did I put the pills? Hmm, I think I ran out of them a few days ago, and I meant to go to the drugstore to get some more, but I had to do a couple of more posts on Facebook before all my friends on the other side of the world went to sleep – I do like getting as many likes as I can when I post – it makes me feel validated. By the time I finished my last comment, it was too late. I guess a nice hot shower will work to ease the spasms. Yes, this is quite nice. I can already feel my muscles untightening, and I should be ready to get out of the shower, dry myself off and get dressed pretty soon. Except, I wanted to do one large wash in order to save money and I’d only accumulated enough for half a load. No clean clothes today. Maybe, I can reclaim something that’s been lying on the floor for a week. Nope, it’s all too pungent and too ripe – looks like the air hasn’t done a thing to diffuse the odors of a life well-put-off. Oh well, it seems that I’ll just have to start anew tomorrow. Yes, that’s the ticket! Or maybe even next week. I’m pretty sure my horoscope said my stars will be in a good alignment with my moon so my creative juices will be overflowing! Now, what to do with all this spare time?