10:03 on a Sunday night. I slink downstairs to take a quick break from homework and find some solace in a bowl of Rice Krispies.

As I begin eating, I find my eyes drifting above the kitchen table to a painting of a few pears I did four years ago that my mother won’t take off the wall. I despise the painting, but I find my eyes sort of crossing so there are six pears instead of three, and somehow I find some odd form of inner bliss in doing so. I am able to hold this glazed over, zombified pose for a good fifteen minutes.

This is not really about procrastination, or Senioritis (Or Junioritis? Ick. No.) No, I think this is more important than that.

Upon first examination, one might see my life as a sad pile of slushy sedentariness. And yet, I feel as if there has to be something I can take away from my life’s byproduct of icky, unproductive mush.

Let’s boil it down—the mush that is. The root of procrastination (or laziness, lethargy; we have many names for it) is electing immediate gratification over long-term gratification, right? So, I do it for that quick, sweet satisfaction.

Well, that’s just it. That’s my motivation for many things, and that’s less terrible than one might think. To a harmless extent, with maybe a few close calls, the art of being able to live in the moment—and get everything out of nothing—can be absolutely euphoric, and I highly recommend it.

To be able to make myself happy so quickly and so easily has become so blissfully beautiful to me. I don’t know if it’s a skill, but if so I’m proud of it.

It’s not optimism. I can’t see the bright side of every situation. But, I can tell myself it doesn’t really matter, because it probably doesn’t. Once that far, I can proceed to focus on other things.

There’s really no need to cram your cranium with bits and bits of intensity until a quick break is the only thing keeping you from a sanitarium. Sometimes it’s best to realize that if you can’t change something by thinking about it hard enough, then maybe don’t.

Slow down. Seriously.

Learn to savor silences. An “awkward silence” doesn’t have to be awkward. Are we that uncomfortable with doing nothing for 10 seconds that we squirm in our skins if it happens?

I once spent a solid chunk of time reading articles on how to stop procrastinating, because I had managed to convince myself that it didn’t count as procrastinating if I was reading about how to fix the problem.

It was amazing. For a little while, I was industriously working on how to improve myself. It didn’t really help, but it was kind of fun.

Okay, so I don’t mean you should forget about work, and throw away your life’s dreams in favor of a jubilant childhood. But don’t be afraid to goof off, or sleep, or take a step back every once in while.

10:20. I snap back to reality to find a few straggling Krispies (or whatever you call them), but otherwise an empty bowl, and a totally unchanged perspective on life.

I gained nothing, nada, zippo from those 15 minutes. I don’t even think I was hungry; it was just that eating gave me something satisfying to do.

But I liked it. I was at peace. I was happy, sort of, and why is that wrong?