The beautiful ego of my procrastination

It was 3 am on a Monday night and I had just swallowed up my share of the Game of Thrones mega meal the penultimate episodes always have to offer. I couldn’t sleep because I had so much on my mind. I knew I had to wake up early, but why did Sansa let him die so easily?

Let’s sleep on it. There’s much to do.

I had a shoot to plan in 2 days, a week to write a script, a broken-heart to dress and a new one to caress. Which one first?

Work rules all.

I started to think about all the things I was going to include in my script. But then I also had my shoot to figure out. The shoot was coming closer. It deserved immediate attention. But it was less interesting. So what? I still had to do it. Sooner or later. Okay so let’s imagine the set. My camera was moving in my mind. Slow pans from left to right. Slow motion shots. Slow edit. Slowwwwww.

When you force yourself to do something you really don’t want to, you’re most likely to lose your mind through it, or worse, you might fall asleep.

Morning come and the guilty Sun only woke me up by noon (The Solar System is run by a procrastinator during the monsoons in Mumbai. ) I delay my arrival at the office by large, just like everything else I had managed to do the night before. I had big plans of planning my shoot that day. Well, I actually had to. I was going on the floor the next day. Instead, I spent the day nursing a broken heart.

There is something about grey clouds and rainy days that make it okay to dwell in gloom.

Long e-mails exchanges and apology-renewed relationships brought the Sun to a slow halt. The night sky grew blue with arrogant clouds shedding their power as I sat by the rain and wondered about people with no windows. A drop trickled down my leg and itched a part my sock was unhappy about.

My mind started to sing a song about it.

So I spent the next few hours downloading new music. So much sound out there, created in different languages, that give love, and the melancholy that it thrives on, new meaning. Ah, love.

There is something about rainy nights and the chill that they bring with them that makes you want to tell someone you love them.

So I spent the next few minutes loving my new love. Maybe I just wanted to be held. The night, although, grew chillier, colder, and there I was, 3 am-ing all over again to the same fearful thoughts procrastinator that possessed me the night before slept to.

I needed to sleep. Sleep was more important than anything else. Sleep. Sleeeep. Sleeeeeep.

Sleep is like love- you cannot refuse it when it appears, you cannot wish for it when it disappears.

Camera pans from left to right. The colours are blue, red, green and white. The song goes from a beautiful voice to the piano’s story. The images are bright and coloured at times, and others, dull and gory. The props shine bright like the yellow sky that I longed for, the lights grow dim like the gloom that I know of now.

48 hours of procrastination- 10 minutes of doing.

The key to a happy procrastinating life is to not doubt it.

I am a child of chaos. A maker of destructive plans, or plans that would eventually be destroyed. I have always done what I was asked not to do, and done never what was expected of me. There is something in that manner of rebellion, that satisfies the ego so, that it becomes addictive, and sometimes useful.

So the new plan is, to do what not to do.