I meant to do this Yesterday

I am a world-class procrastinator. Seriously. If there were a contest for how long a person could put off doing something without losing a job, I'd take the gold. If it weren't for deadlines, nothing would ever get done in this world of mine.  Thankfully, I tend to do my best work when met with a strict deadline.

Take my bedroom, for instance. It looks like it was simultaneously hit by a tornado and an earthquake, followed by a Mack Truck for good measure. I'm not sure what color the carpet is. (Ironically, in my slightly OCD brain, this annoys the hell out of me. I have a hard time motivating myself to clean But that's another blog).  As a child, my mother was constantly yelling at me to clean my room, but this had little effect on me.  That's not quite true; it actually had the reverse effect on me, making me less likely to clean. But then, church camp or a vacation would come along. Even if the trip was already payed for, my mother would tell me I couldn't go unless my room was perfect the night before the trip. I wouldn't touch my room until the day before the trip, and then I would stay up until two in the morning making the room sparkle. Of course, the week after I returned, the room would go back to it's messed up state.

Maybe that's why I like journalism so much. I can semi-plan my own schedule, and as long as my stories are done by the deadline, I'm good. And it works well for me; even if I wait until last minute, as I tend to do, the story gets done and it's well. If I try to do it ahead of time, I can't concentrate, and my stories never come out as well. It's like the pressure of a strict deadline (even if it wasn't strict when originally given to me) suddenly motivates my other-wise laidback brain to kick into high gear and be creative.

Gotta love this messed-up head of mine....Now, if I can just get my room clean before I head back to New Mexico in August.

Nah, I'll do it next week.