It is 8:31 AM. I am sitting poised at my keyboard, which creaks on its pull out tray. iTunes is shuffling its way through my partial work library. With only an inch of my iced latte left, I feel both satisfied and yearning for more caffeine at the same time. A stack of 24 freshmen essays awaits my scrutinizing eye. My blue ball-point pen is staring at me; it knows I’ll be employing its ink services in a matter of moments…when my motivation decides to show up.
Mornings are funny; you KNOW what needs to get done. You look forward to that sated feeling once everything is behind you. And yet, getting started is, perhaps, one of the most difficult tasks. Some days, I jump right in without so much as a thought. Other days, something propels me forward without my permission and once there, getting the work done just comes easily. I’ve always been a procrastinator. I have always rather run from problems than address them. If I let myself get too far behind, I get depressed, even though I have no one to blame but myself. I find distractions. I tool around with other things that I convince myself are important.
And all at once, something intangible rises up and I have some kind of magical courage to begin working. I make that phone call I’d been putting off because who wants to talk to people? I open that Word document and start editing. I log into my online class and face their endless questions. I may not want to but in about three or four hours I will be so thankful I got it all behind me.