As I am writing this article, it is three days late. I never intend for this to happen. In fact, as soon as I receive a deadline, I set up a “strict” schedule for myself.
Okay, the article is due Friday, meaning I’ll start writing Tuesday, revise Wednesday, and submit it for edits by Thursday.
Tuesday approaches and suddenly I have so much homework. Wednesday comes and I just have to watch this random movie. Thursday is here and it seems like a stellar idea to watch Tik Tok for six hours. Friday arrives and what do you know, I have not one word written.
In his TED Talk, “Inside the mind of a master procrastinator,” Tim Urban describes the “Panic Monster.” The Panic Monster slowly awakes as due dates creep closer and closer, alerting a procrastinator of the work which needs to be done. It begins to roar, however, the night before those deadlines. Procrastinators have no choice but to jump into action to escape the heart-palpitating, sweat-inducing, anxiety-attack-inviting nature of the Panic Monster. Somehow the procrastinator finishes everything in one night, and the Panic Monster serenely goes back to sleep.
Unfortunately, the Panic Monster and I are best friends. Whether I’m working on a 10-page paper or a project I’ve had a month to do, I can never find the motivation to start anything unless my brain feels compressed by the pressure to get it done. I always feel like I have more time, know I will get it done, or straight up do not care enough to initiate action. I go on living my life peacefully until I am confronted with the consequences of my own actions. The day before something is due, though, it turns out that I do not have time nor do Iknow if I will get it done. It appears as if I really, really do care.
The stress this process has caused has aged me at least five years. However, I can’t stop the cycle because it somehow always works. Every time I anticipate failure, I pull myself together enough to finish an assignment. I meet the deadline or am granted an extension. I do decently enough to not disbar procrastinating from my lifestyle habits.
For example, this semester my English professor assigned me a 1500-word essay worth twenty percent of my final grade. Seeing I had two weeks to complete the paper, I immediately dismissed it. I’ll worry about that later, I told myself. The day before the due date approached: my chest filled with uneasy flurries. The Panic Monster was in full force. 12 hours were spent analyzing, typing, screaming, erasing, crying, and editing. Exhausted, I defeatedly handed my professor my paper expecting the worst. I was fully aware it was the worst paper I had ever written and took an oath to never relive that experience again.
Weeks passed and we finally received our graded essays. As my professor laid my tear-stained paper on my desk, my eyes remained shut tight. I physically felt unable to confront my failure. I gave myself a pep talk, telling myself that no matter what grade I received, the sun would still rise tomorrow. Little did I know, an A would stare back at me.
Right then and there, I knew I would never stop procrastinating. Obviously there was a method to my madness. My fear of failure ignites me. I just need a little burn to trigger my ambition. Will this habit ever cause me to explode? I guess I’ll figure it out later.