Procrastination is your Friend

They say there are certain events that mark transitions in your life. The first time you go to school, teary-eyed that you have to leave the comforts of house and parents and warm milk; the first time you graduate from a school, only to realize that a bitter seven more years await you further down the road (decades more if you're like me); the first time you drive a car and realize, hey, you can run away if you want to. There are many such things that mark defining moments in your life, changing you from some naive little kid to whatever new, more sophisticated, and much more empowered identity you now are. Life, therefore, can be seen as a sequential series of 'level ups,' and it is by going from one level to the next that we grow, mature, and continue to live on.

However, much like an adventure video game that you enjoy playing (gurus and enthusiasts alike should hearken back to the days of Super Mario 64, Zelda Ocarina of Time, and Banjo-Kazooie (and for the record, the heavy bias towards Nintendo is intentional) ), there are times when you really don't want to level up. Why move onto the next level when this level is perfectly enjoyable? Why should you push on ahead when, hey, running around throwing bombs at goombas or shooting Deku thingamabobs is clearly enough enjoyment for right now? Even if that final archway leading to the boss of the epic dungeon you spent forty or fifty hours slogging through (WATER TEMPLE OMG) is glowing, open, and practically begging you to finish up, should you really go through? Sure, it's a culmination of all of your cumulative efforts; a gratification to see all you've done paid off but at the same time, there's always that wistful sadness.

I wonder sometimes whether as the Hero of Time steps through to Ganon with his shiny new Longshot or Mario to Bowser with a cape and some spare 'shrooms, if they feel at all a sense of 'this is the end.' And if they end up regretting not letting it last longer in the first place and enjoying the level, no matter how trying, annoying, frustrating, downright impossible or contorted or poorly designed it is.

As children, we spend much of our time racing through childhood like some gamer on a power-levelling trip. Forget 'having fun,' or 'relaxing;' children can't afford to in a world that has grown competitive beyond measure and youngsters spend days prepping for their MCAT at the age of eight with parents watching like hawks to insure they are properly 'developed.' When the world's youngest PhD is somewhere around 18 years old (barely legal to smoke and vote, much less attain a 5+ year degree in a competitive program) and the media glorifies prodigal talent from Shirley Temple to 10-year-old Lindsay Lohan to Taylor Swift, it seems like a waste for children to do things like lie on a grassy lawn and stare at the clouds, or play cook with mud and rocks. No, no, clearly children should be like adults 'pon birth; work hard, learn everything, and make six figures by the time they're twenty.

Acceleration is the name of the game and it doesn't get better when you get older. College courses used to be taught, well, in college; now, AP exams are standard for top ranking schools. Students do scientific research at the tender age of 16, present at conferences in front of distinguished faculty and advisors by 18, publish papers before they're legally allowed to drink on various aspects of science and generally, attain PhDs before they even hit the age of 30 (sometimes, MD/PhD for the super bright ones). The world is now one, gigantic fast track to the final boss door and the only promise is that past that, is this mythical thing called 'Happiness' that one will attain and everything will be ok again. The ending, the fulfillment, the boss down and peace in the realm of Hyrule ...

And then you're standing outside your job with your resume, your giant list of accomplishments, your hurdles and battles behind you and peace has returned to the kingdom and there's this sudden 'now what' feeling gripping your heart. What do you do now?

Perhaps you should have savored that epic dungeon, those classes you took, the brief specks of time you spent at coffee shops, the sun during the days that it was sunny rather than the fastest path through, the time you spent at books in your room late at night with blinds drawn. Maybe then you wouldn't have this huge hole in your heart that, despite the long list of achievements, merits, and amazing things you have done, none of it really feels real. So you go off again on a new epic quest; a new career, a new job, something to get back into hacking through demons to usurp a king, or save the world from some catastrophe and ...

This time, take it easy. Things will happen at their own pace. Take some time between your rush to cram biology and stats into your head and look at the sun; savor the feel of understanding, relish each word that you write. Because when it ends, it ends and you don't want to look around thinking 'oh, what do I do now?'

You'd rather look around and think 'That was amazing.' And that contentment is your promised reward at the end of it all.

Today is bright and sunny, but I'm stuck inside (ironically) doing work. However, you can bet that I'll try and savor it as much as I can- even if it means I miss a few deadlines in the process.