The procrastination bug

It’s Saturday night and I have a midterm and two essays due on Monday, an article due sometime tomorrow and a whole lot of reading to finish. So naturally, I’m working on none of the above.

The procrastination bug has struck again, and admittedly it’s something I’m not totally unfamiliar with.

I was first labelled a procrastinator at age eight, when my grade four teacher assigned the class a science project that involved collecting and identifying rocks. Knowing early on that science wasn’t for me, I ignored the project for weeks in favour of book reports and art assignments. When the time came to hand in my rock collection, I had nothing to show for it and despite endless (albeit warranted) nagging from my teacher, I never did finish it.

Back then, as a carefree youngster, I felt very little guilt over my procrastination and had no qualms about watching TV or riding my scooter around the block when I should have been studying.

By the time I got to high school, my attitude changed. I wanted to learn and do well academically, but that didn’t mean I left my procrastinating ways behind. It simply meant I was procrastinating with a lot more skill and guilt.

Over the years, I honed my procrastination skills into a quasi-art form. Selected methods included: laboriously cleaning my room (who can study in a disorganized space?), taking a ‘short’ nap (to allow for optimum concentration) and catching up on my (non school-related) reading, which is more productive than watching TV, I reasoned.

I came to be known as the master of procrastination among my friends—a title I didn’t entirely reject. By Grade 12, I could proudly (and honestly) boast that I had never studied for more than about three tests or exams in my entire life. My friends would watch in awe as I left my English paper or history presentation until the night before and still got a 95 per cent.

The truth is, I hated leaving things until the last minute, and I still do. As much as I can’t stand being reminded by my parents or friends how well I could have done on that test or midterm if I had actually studied, I know they’re right.

By my first year at Queen’s, I had begun to seek out ways to curb my problem, but to no avail. Endless self-help books later, I’m still selling myself short through my chronic procrastination.

I know procrastination is a coping mechanism for anxiety; I know it’s a sign of perfectionism and indecisiveness. The problem is figuring out how to stop. Telling me why I procrastinate doesn’t help me fix the problem; it just gives me something else to think about and distract myself with.

By the time this goes to print, I’ll most likely be frantically trying to figure out why Peter the Great was so great and doing a last-minute analysis on the relationships between women in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. If you see me in Stauffer, don’t hesitate to stop for a chat. I’ll probably be looking for a distraction.

All final editorial decisions are made by the Editor(s)-in-Chief and/or the Managing Editor. Authors should not be contacted, targeted, or harassed under any circumstances. If you have any grievances with this article, please direct your comments to journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Skip to content