Archive for aging

Procrastination and The Power of Tomorrow

Posted in Humor Column, self help with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 14, 2012 by Joe Zimmerman

Procrastination has always been an issue for me.  I tend to start a lot of projects and then not finish.  I actually started writing this particular blog months ago and then forgot about it, and I’m only going back to it now because I’m putting off something more pressing.  Years ago I purchased the Idiot’s Guide to Overcoming Procrastination and I never got around to reading it. In the first few pages it mentions the Procrastination Society of America and gives you a number you can call to join.  To my surprise some guy answered on what sounded like a home phone:
“Hello.”
“Hi, is this the Procrastination Society of America?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“So, how do I join?”
“You want to join?  You’re in.  Just need your address and we’ll put the membership info in the mail.”
“Okay …(address)…”
“Perfect, you’ll be hearing from us.”
“Great, thanks.”
“It may take a while…”
Fast forward to now and I never received anything.  I don’t know who that guy was, but he’s awesome.

The strangest part about procrastination, is that my brain continues to trick me into believing that I’ll actually be productive tomorrow.  It’s always tomorrow, and never today. Everything important in life is getting done tomorrow: finances, productivity, fitness, diet, taxes, social-consciousness, you name it, miscellaneous, etc.

I have something important to do and my brain goes, “Hey, you know what?  Tomorrow would be a perfect day to get cracking on those Turbo Tax forms,” and I say, “Yeah, good point brain,” and we high-five, and then I eat carrot cake.   In my experience carrot cake is the direct result of high-fiving your brain.

So then tomorrow comes, and now it’s today, and that’s a problem, because today is now, and now is always an issue.   At this very moment, I’m writing a blog, and right after that I need to eat lunch.  I mean, you have to eat lunch.  I can’t be running on the treadmill or doing my taxes while I’m eating lunch.  Tomorrow however, I have the entire day.  Tomorrow I have a sixteen hour window to TCB (yeah, take care of business).  I can do one hour at the gym, two hours on taxes, and two hours getting started on that novel.   That still leaves eleven more hours to get everything else done.  But today I have a seven hour drive back to New York, and let’s face it, you can’t get anything done while you’re driving – you have to listen to podcasts and stop at Chipotle.

What’s truly bizarre, is that my brain plays the same trick over and over, and I continue to fall for it.   You’d think I’d wise up and go, “Not this time brain! You said tomorrow yesterday, and today it’s the same thing as the day before yesterday!  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me every time forever, shame on me.

I’m also guilty of thinking that everything will be easier when I’m older.  There’s this illusion that when you’re older you’ll have more money, a nice house, plenty of free time to knock out that bucket list and start that charitable organization.   But the reality is when I’m actually old I’m gonna be like, “Ooooh, my bones hurt!” I’ll be in a nursing home reminiscing on the times when I had the energy to stay awake for more than forty-five minutes.

Procrastination probably follows you to your deathbed.
“Do you have any last words?
“Ooh, I sure hope there’s an afterlife so I can finally get started on this bucket list…”
“What was that Mr. Zimmerman?”
“My bones hurt… (incomprehensible mutters)…pigeon-crust…(death rattle)”
(checks pulse)
“He’s gone.”
“Make a note, his last words were ‘pigeon-crust’.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s come back to it tomorrow, right now I need a drink.”

Too Old to Trick-or-Treat

Posted in Humor Column, Some sites I enjoy, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2010 by Joe Zimmerman

For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve felt a deep sense of aging; the inner-monologue of “man, I’m really getting old.”
“Yep Joe, you sure are.”
(Looking at self in the mirror, contemplatively).
But it doesn’t make sense, because I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen. Shouldn’t I be thinking, “Thank God I’m not 80!”? Perhaps I should. In fact, I feel better already.

Trick-or-treating is the first memory I have of feeling “old.” Halloween is a strange thing, because who sets the age limit for trick-or-treating? Surely last night, I could have gone around trick-or-treating, and probably come back with a bag full of candy, and not broken any laws in doing so. But I know that trick-or-treating is for “kids.” So at what age do you stop being a kid? For me it was thirteen; at least, according to one lady in my neighborhood.

I was trick-or-treating with Craig (one of my bf’s who was twelve at the time), and the first door we knocked on is this nice lady who always has the full-size Snicker bars. She comes to the door, looks at us like we’re bank-robbers and goes, “aren’t you boys a little old to be trick-or-treating?”
I think our reaction was, “Are we?”
And that was the beginning of the end of being a kid.
Granted, we probably half-assed the costume. Come to think of it, we may have even dressed as bank-robbers.

This year, I didn’t give out candy. I was the guy with the porch light off, hiding in a back room, watching Game 4 of the World Series. Then it hit me, it wasn’t that long ago that I was looking up through the eye-slits of my Zorro costume, at a house with the porch light off, thinking, “What a dick. Who does that? What kind of ASSHOLE, can’t give candy out to children just ONE day out of the year? ONE day! That’s all we ask.”

Well, me, apparently. I’m the same guy, I hate, and I’m having this strange dialogue with younger me where I’m going, “C’mon, give me a break! I’m not that big of a dick am I? The World Series is on! Don’t blame the poor guy with the porch light off – blame the damn commissioner of baseball, or whoever it is that schedules the World Series.”

I wonder if periodically throughout my life, I’ll become the guy that I disliked. Perhaps when I’m eighty, I’ll show up to some comedy show, and have a mean scowl on my face from beginning to end. Then older me will remember younger me thinking, “Why would you bother coming out if you’re not even willing to crack a smile you?” Then older me will go, “Because I lost the ability to smile in World Word 4, when I took a lazer right in the groin! Now I come out and try and find some joy, and here you are, the “entertainment” unappreciative of the fact that I had to take a LAZER, in the GROIN, in WORLD WAR FOUR! You asshole! You…me!!”

Either that or I’ll be like, “I’m not smiling because Frogs eat caterpillars for breakfast!” (Because my brain will not be functioning properly).

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