Kelly’s Unnecessary Blog

Today I was asked to describe a problem I have. I volunteered that I am lazy. Maybe lazy isn’t quite the right way to put it. I certainly procrastinate. This body is at rest.

Let me think about this for a while.

I don’t remember being lazy when I was a kid. In fact, I was always busy. I liked to draw and color, and listen to records. For a time we lived across the street from the library (the house two doors down from the Methodist Church, for those of you following along) and I was a constant patron. Oh how I loved to read. I made it through all of the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books. I played with my friends on my swingset in the back yard. (Memory: I had just woken up from a nap and it seems that my friends had congregated at my swingset without me. My mom told them not to do it again. I was peeking out from behind her silently thinking, “Yeah!”) The swingset didn’t make the trip to our next house because I was that much older, but I still loved to read and we had a nice back porch on which to do it. I developed a whole stable of imaginary horses and spent countless hours working out their pedigrees, making pictures, and reading my numerous horse magazines. I spent hours listening to music.

Nope, as a kid I wasn’t lazy.

So where did it come from and what can I do about it? I’m not saying I want to go all the way to Type A, but I feel like I’m at about Type G. C would be nice.

Time to beat myself up.

In college, I always worked well under pressure, in other words, at the last minute. Sure, I have deadlines at work but that’s not what I’m talking about. Maybe it is. Maybe my frail psyche is so wiped out at the end of the work day and week that I just can’t bear the thought of doing anything at home. If that were the case, it would seem pretty dumb, at least on the surface to the outsider looking in. Your brain likes to fool you.

No harm to others or the world is coming from my not doing anything. It just lowers my self-esteem.

What bothers me about my laziness is the lack of forward progress in my life in general. A large contributing factor to that is that I’m comfortable. I have liked my job for almost 15 years and I can pay my bills.

But I’m not happy. I am and I’m not. On the surface, I’m usually in a good mood and I’m an indefatigable optimist and I have self-confidence. But deep down, I feel unfulfilled.

For 11 years, I’ve been convinced that living in England is what I need, and yet I’ve done nothing to accomplish it. I know that the longer I wait the less likely it is to happen. Because of my age, I am less and less marketable for a job. Because of my parents’ age, I might feel obligated to take care of them. (Did I mention that I’m an only child? I’m kind of selfish, too. Lazy and selfish.)

So what advice have I gotten?

• Guilt myself into doing it. 
• Give myself a day a week for guilt-free nothingness. 
• Procrastination is really a perfectionism issue. 
• Get other people to make me feel guilty. 
• How would my child-self handle it? 

Regardless of which method I employ, it unfortunately still comes down to me, myself, and Kelly. I’ll get back to you on how it’s going. Sometime.

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