Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you Tomorrow

I always thought of myself as a "go for it" kind of person. If I want something bad enough, I've been known to abandon everything (children, my good sense...), to seek it out.

I talk the big talk, "If you want something, you just have to go for it," "Life is short..." "If you don't look out for yourself, who will?"

Recently, however, I've been doing something I really never thought I would do - procrastinating. I still talk big about all of the great plans I have: Lose 10 pounds. Write 1000 words a day. Volunteer. Learn how to play the guitar. Paint the hallway. But I'm spending far more time talking about all these great and wonderous things I am GOING to do.

Don't get me wrong, I don't procrastinate without good reason. When the first seeds of my second novel began to cultivate in my imagination, I couldn't wait to get started. As soon as I had a place to write, I could get to work on my masterpiece. The desk arrived at Christmas.

As soon as my office was painted. Too dreary to write in a room with putty-colored walls. Done (along with colorful artwork and bright red chairs, just in case the dreariness slipped back into the room.)

As soon as there were book shelves to hold all of my books (for inspiration, of course), I could begin. Done.

Spring arrived. Who wants to write when flowers are blooming everywhere?

School's out! Ugh... between working full time and the kids being home, it just wasn't a good time to get started.

All the signs are there. I've procrastinated away almost two years!

My writer friends feel my pain. We talk about it on Facebook, for hours at a time.

"I wish I had more time to write," I say, while uploading a goofy photo from the weekend. And the hours pass.

Procrastination has settled deep in my bones, but I'm determined that tomorrow, tomorrow is the day I will conquer it. Right after I get new lighting for my office. Who can write in that darkness. Bad for your eyes.