Procrastination, still

I've written before about my procrastination, but here's something to demonstrate how bad it is: my kitchen date with Kirk was December 5, when I roasted a chicken. I still haven't washed the dishes from that endeavor. Here's another: I bought a book about coping with procrastination and what contributes to it. I still haven't read even half of it. I bought the book over ten years ago.

I did manage to get out of bed today by nine, so I could wash clothes at the neighborhood laundromat, so now I have a little bit of an interval for some refection. I took the book with me and read a little of it.

Procrastination allows people to take comfort in believing that their ability is greater than their performance indicates, perhaps even maintaining the belief that they are brilliant or unlimited in their potential to do well. As long as you procrastinate, you never have to confront the real limits of your ability, whatever those limits are.

I strongly identify with this passage. That's all I have time to say right now.

I want to be more candid in my journal about my progress, or lack thereof, with this struggle, but it's very hard to make these kinds of admissions in a public forum. Still, the journaling allows me to have a dialog with myself. The thoughts that I have upon reading the book are ephemeral, and are crowded out unless I can write them down, hampering my efforts to understand and overcome this problem.

I've got this weekend packed with activity, so it's going to be difficult for me to properly reflect on what I'm reading. I'm also resolved to tackle my kitchen either tomorrow morning before John picks me up or tomorrow evening after I return from the HIV support group.