What is it with me and doing things at the last minute? I seem to be a hopeless case. No matter how soon I start something in advance I always end up constructing things so that I get into rush-rush towards the end. I can only suppose that I get a kick out of the adrenaline. I know I also relish that feeling of having ‘triumphed over the odds’ – even though those odds have been entirely manufactured by me!
Maybe it’s a primeaval urge to recreate the thrill of the fight-or-flight response? I don’t know. I do know that I have a prejudice against getting things done in good time – it feels ‘sad’, as in dull, surburban, dowdy. Last minute is punk, urban, edgy!
At the end of the day, I suppose, it’s whatever gets your juices going. It’s much better to be working in an energetic state that feels jazzy and alive, than trying to ‘kick a pea up a hill’ and force yourself to perform in a way that you don’t want to.
In my case, then, perhaps it’s better to call procrastination ‘sensitivity to my own energetic’. If it doesn’t feel right, I don’t do it. When the time comes to go for it, I feel it and I enter into the task at hand with gusto.