Things that I consider futile endeavors:
1. Cleaning the house when it’s full of toddlers… or teenagers. 😉
2. Raking leaves — aren’t they good fertilizer? I mean, really?
3. Making New Year resolutions. Nope. Never keep them.
4. Claiming that I will begin and finish this story, lesson, or that talk, blog post, etc., long BEFORE it is due. Yeah. Not in my genetic make-up apparently.
I won’t say I work well under pressure. Okay, dang it, yes, I do. During my four years in college you’d find me at the kitchen table on Saturday night with a pile of books, furiously working on that term paper that was due Monday. I don’t enjoy the pressure, but sometimes it’s almost as if I must have it in order to proceed.
Yes, young ones, we used actual books way back then. *Want to hear something scary? I didn’t have the Internet, either. Just a typewriter and bottle of white-out.*
Then I spend hours asking myself: “Why? Why put yourself through misery when you could have done the project in a more leisurely, un-hurried fashion?”
Ummm, I still don’t really have an answer to that one. It’s one of my quirks that I swear I will, someday, change. But time goes by and I still find myself on dead-line, working long into the night and feeling more than a bit frustrated. Although maybe I have made a tiny bit of progress. In a way. Now I kind of accept the fact that I will again be working the night before to finish something, whatever it may be. And I’m sort of okay with that, because I know that I will come through. My brain will kick into gear; inspiration will hit hard and fast; and I will do a good job.
But sometimes I wonder… How much better would it be if I really gave myself more time?