Still the procrastinator
So it is only couple of days left till this paper, no this homework -but it is not an homework. I am sitting here typing away an English paper. It is due tomorrow and I have only few hours to finish this paper for my English101 class. Ms. Turley, yes that is her name. She is a good teacher. Let me restate, she is a great teacher -always critical of my work. “Constructive criticism,” so she says as she looks at me and then my paper and then she points to the red mark on the page and says “…see you need to restate your thesis statement.” I always go back and reword my thesis and sometimes the entire paragraph. Yes I do like to reword the whole “draft” paper, but I have not much time to do it on this project at hand. It is due tomorrow.
I have to write this and I have to do it by end of the night. I still need to get some shuteye before I have to work in the morning. Even if I get three hours, “I am good.” so I think to myself before starting to write my paper. I start with my thesis statement and then go back and rewrite it again. “I bet Ms. Turley would say I have to rewrite it again.” My thoughts exactly! I have written it about a few times and now I have made four paragraphs out of this. I need three ideas, a, b, c, and I need a “conclusion” paragraph where I have to restate my thesis and repeat the three main ideas again and not in so many words.
I remember when I had to do a paper due for my Humanities class and I had to write that paper the day before. I am going through the same situation again. “I swear this will not happen to me again.” I told myself the first time and yet I repeat like the Chicago Bull in the nineties. But this is not Basketball. They practice many days before the game. I only write mine on the night it is due. What is the difference? Here I am again trying to figure out my three main ideas.
Oh yes the paper is supposed to be “demonstrative essay” and I am good at that. I can demonstrate how to use the Seven Eleven’s fountain to get free slushy all over you mouth and face or I can show you how to buy and eat a Jumbo Jack from Jack in the Box. I can do this paper. “Have you had Jack lately.” is written on my computer’s screen. “Yes. This is my thesis.” I tell myself and will have to demonstrate how to eat a Jumbo Jack. I will demonstrate how you can walk to the counter. Then you will get your food from the front cashier and finally I will show how you can finish off that burger you just ordered. I am done with my thesis and main ideas. Now I have to add details.
This is getting to be too much. I have to stop writing the papers on the night they are due. I am making another pledge to stop the madness and stop the procrastination. How can I guarantee that I will follow my own advice? I only just broke it a moment ago. “This time it is different.” “Would Ms. Turley like this essay.” I tell myself and move on to write the details. There is no time to think whether Ms. Turley will like it or not. Besides I will get my share of “constructive criticism”, and will adjust accordingly. For now I need to finish this essay. Good now”…we will walk to the front office and say ‘hey’, then move forward with your order. ” That is a good start. Another sentence and you have your first details. I cannot wait to finish this off. I could seriously use the time to sleep. “It’s been a long day.” I got work in the morning and then more school and what about the Humanities homework. You can do that tonight? Ms. Turley would sure be upset if she found out that I only wrote the essay the night before. I should of thought of it back in those days.
I have realized that sometimes when I write the night before I do a better job of it. If I have to think about what I will write, it would seriously take the juice out of writing. Perhaps I am the only one with this “oddness?” but I believe it. “This, I say will make it.” Exactly my thoughts when I finish this paper. “Can I get a Jumbo Jack? Please.” You should tell the cashiers. She will then ask if you need something else and you will reply “That should do it.” and wait for her to tell you the total. Sweet! Now I am done with the first details of the first main idea -two more to go. “It is getting late.” I think I need to sleep. How will I sleep if I have to finish this essay and print it and turn it in? All those steps have to be taken before I can even start to think about sleeping.
You will walk to a chair in the back of the restaurant and set down. This stuff is good. “If I had to plan to write about this, it would not have happened.” My writings that is – the thoughts are following me every sentence. There is quite thought bothering me behind my brain. I cannot figure it out yet. In so many words I can demonstrate how you can open the wrapper and starting biting on the burger. It is an experience. I should know. I eat Jumbo Jacks all the time and they are always good. “…and now I have to write about it.” I am almost done with the first paragraph. This stuff comes natural. Once you have taken a bite from the burger, do not stop eating until the burger is gone completely. That is the only way you can enjoy and remember that you enjoyed your burger -all of this joy because I get to tell you how to order and then eat it. It seems an easy task. You have all done it. You have walked to a cashier and you have ordered a burger before -perhaps not in a Jack in the Box, but at a Wendy’s restaurant for sure. You never bought a burger upon instruction before you read my essay though. These are ideas that come as I write and even though the paper is due tomorrow, I am sure of it that it will be done. “Ms. Turley sure will enjoy this paper.” Let us see. I will also be happy once I have it back and rewrite the whole thing and add more. This story will go on even if the “demonstrative essay” story has only four paragraphs. I still need to add to this paper and make it long – a story that I will have to write every details about.
“This is a process and it takes time.” My boss always says that. The only difference is that my process is over night. It used to start with a pre-plan plan, but now it has become express like FedEx. Not a bad idea if you ask me, but please don’t. I cannot guarantee. Once you have finished your burger, you will trash the wrapper and the tray cover and put the tray on top of the trashcan and walk away. “And that ladies and gentlemen is how you order and eat a Jumbo Jack from the Jack in the Box.” I conclude my last paragraph. I have to spell check and grammar check the essay and print it. I am done. I could definitely use the sleep. I will turn the Humanities homework late. I will send an email to the professor and get an extension. That would help me to get some sleep tonight. I am done with the paper and good to go.
I am an advocate of procrastination, but it becomes a habit. Any type of habit is hard to break. They have patches for the nicotine addiction though –what can I cure with mine. If I mention that it needs a cure, then I must be admitting that procrastination is a disease. Is it? I have become good at writing papers the night before they are due though. It is not out of procrastination. It is out of habit. I have to patch. I am in bed now and I feel good. I have set up my clock to ring exactly at six thirty in the morning. My work starts at eight and that gives me time to shower, grub and hit the door early enough to get to work on time. I have to work for five hours and then I have the school till about ten. I will have to finish the Humanities homework when I get back from work. It is not much. I should be done with it in an hour and hit the bed at twelve. “I will get six and half hours of sleep tonight.” I told myself as I day dreamed in the English class.
I can probably finish this paper and write more but my son is crying and I have to get back to you.
Just you wait
“I will pick up at 9.” I told my friend Adam and hanged up the phone. It was a Saturday night, which meant that we were going out to a club or a bar to get some drinks and watch some beautiful women shake their bottoms side to side. “Want shake with that fried” I had head once growing up and never knew what it meant. It was around five in the afternoon and I was still in the mall looking around the sports stores to buy a new baseball hat for the night. I like baseball hats and have many of them from different teams. I am not a fan of any particular team, but I like all the baseball hats. I chose my hat, a black hat with letter “A’s” embroidered in front of it –for the Oakland Athletics. I paid the cashier and walked away from the mall leaving it to the teens who occupy every corner of the mall. They tend to be there all the time –in front of the mall, all over the food court and walking around the stairs up and down. I do not condemn their presence there. As a teen I was kicked out of the same mall for “loitering”. I am not sure what that meant to this day, but I guess it was for hanging out at the mall too much and too often without spending a dime. Now-a-days, it is in and out like the burger joint and not as fast as I wanted to be. I don’t like malls. If I can get out of there faster than a speeding bullet and still get my business done, I am all for it. I wonder if they still kick people out for that sort of “activity”.
I drove to my house and parked the car on the street knowing that I will be leaving in couple of hours and did not want to park it on the drive-way. I tend to become lazy when I can –especially reversing my car from a driveway. I rather just park it on the street a risk a drive-by accident or side-swipe. I have not learned my lesson. A few years ago, I had park my car on the street and went inside. I had to go to work in couple of hours. It was night time and I was lazy as I am now in parking my car on the drive-way. I jumped in my car in a hurry and drove away to visit Max on the way to work. Max was a fried on mine from high school and lived close by my house. I usually would drop by his house on the way to work and sometimes during the day when I passed thru the neighborhood. I parked my car in front of his house and started walking toward him. He was standing in front yard with his neighbor. They started to laugh as I walked toward them. “What is the matter with you,” referring to my friend, I asked. “Dude, what happened to your car?” He joylessly asked. I was not aware of what had happened. To my knowledge it was fine. I turned around a looked at my car –a big dent on the passenger side fender. “Oh no…” I yield. I was furious to what just had happened to my car. “It was find when I washed it this morning.” I thought to myself.
I went inside and changed my clothes. I walked to the fridge as a habit and took a sip of orange juice from the fridge. It has become a custom now. Every time I walk by the fridge, I open the door and I take a look inside usually ending up drinking a sip of something. When I was growing up, my mom would always taunt me about that. “Don’t sip from the bottle, take a cup and pour the juice in it. Then drink.” She would exclaim. I cannot count how many times I have heard that link in so many ways. The thought of the car parked out side on the street never crossed my mind. The last incident was long forgotten. I went to my room and opened the walk-in and started to look for an outfit. After a minute of looking I found my favorite blue jeans and my white shirt. After changing to my outfit, I put my new hat on and I was ready to hit the road.
“Where you going?” My little brother Fraam asked me with his mouth full pizza he had ordered from Dominos. “Where is the pizza?” I replied. “In the kitchen.” He said, “Where you going?” he raised his voice. I didn’t want to answer any questions and just wanted to leave. “Where you are going?” I heard him say as I drove away from the house. My brother is always asking questions and even though he knows the answers to most of them, he still likes to annoy me every now and then. I have become accustomed to his annoyance. I like to play music when I am driving and it is usually louder than it should be. This causes me to miss some phone calls. When my cell phone rings, I don’t hear a thing. It is not because I screen my calls or I don’t like to talk while I am driving. It has happened many times now -last Friday when I was driving to my sister’s house to pick up some laundry she had done for my mom, my mom called few times on the way over to my sister’s. She also wanted me to pick up a gallon of milk and some cat food. As if the cat is important, right. To my knowledge she never called me until I got back home later that day. I didn’t mean to not answer her called. I just never bothered to check while I was driving. I checked my phone and I had three missed called from the same phone number –the house. “Pick up your phone.” My mom yelled at me when I got back. “When did you call,” was my standard answer to most of complaints I got for not answering my phone while driving. That should be standard protocol. No answering phones while driving. Besides it is a practice. In some cities, they will fine you if you are caught talking on the cell phone while driving. Although sometime I put my phone on vibrate so I know when someone is calling me –most of the time I just deal with the complaints with my standard answer. I pulled up in front of Adams house and walked out to his front door. “Who’s there?” a voice called in from the house when I rang the bell. “It’s me.” I was still taking small sip out of the coca-cola can I picked up when I had the slice of pizza at home. “Open the door.” “What you doing here?” Adam’s sister Angie asked when she answered the door. “Nothing, where is he?” I replied. “Who?” She said in wondering voice. “Move.” I pushed her away and walked toward Adams room in the back of the house. Adam’s room is filled up. His walls are covered with every poster, sticker, pictures from magazines and anything else “celebrity and famous” he could find. He has many posters on his walls –a big 2PAC poster on the door covering top to bottom. A signed poster of Charles Barkley in the corner wall pinned in the middle of wall. I think he got that when he went to NBA All Star Games when they were held in Civic Plaza, Phoenix –it is Phoenix Convention Center now, I believe. The music in the background provided a perfect montage as I sat down on the chair and started to surf the Internet. It was 2PAC singing “How do you want it…” song and that happens to be Adams favorite as you would guess. Then again any 2PAC song is his favorite. Adams room has everything in it. The computer desk is in the corner with monitor on one side and the TV on the other. He has extended the cable from the other room to get high speed Internet. There is the PlayStation 2 console in the corner. We play Socom II online when we are at home. We usually end up on opposite teams and try to find each other on the map and fight. “You are dead sucker.” He told me last time when he won the fight. “Are we going to the spot?” He asked. “Yeah. We’ll go around ten.” The spot is the club we usually go on Saturday nights. It is pretty dark with party lights going on and off. The loud music makes your ear drums dance inside your head. “WHAT!” is the common answer to every conversation inside the club. You hardly hear a thing. “There are a lot of people here tonight.” I told Adam as loud as I could last week.
After a few clicks on the Internet I ended up reading an article about how Phoenix SUNS had lost the game the night before to LA Lakers. It was due to Steve Nash having an injury and not being able to play. That is common with SUNS –some one is injured so it is OK to lose. “What you guys up to?” Angie asked as she walked into Adams room. “Nothing. What you want?” Adams quipped as he put his LA Dodger’s hat on. “Get out of here.” He finished forcefully pushing her out of his room. “Nothing. God!” She decried. I paid no attention as I was half way thru the article and had found an open bag of Doritos chips, my favorite, and started devouring it like a cow in the midst of green pastures. “Let’s go.” Adam yelled from out side of the hall. He was already out the room and on towards the door.
“Man, your bro is in a hurry.” I told Angie and closed the font door behind me. I had barely turned my body around. “What happened to your car?” Adam said frantically as he ran toward me pointing to my car.