I am a cunning master, a clever manipulator of time. I do not speak the language of months, weeks, days, or hours.

I deal in minutes and seconds.

Procrastination is a delicate art, and I am the consummate artist. I’ve watched for :59 on my laptop clock more than anyone else has. A distant portion of my mind sometimes wonders if I should complete a task “early.” What is “early?” Perhaps it’s a goal long-forgotten, buried under YouTube videos, conversations, and as the deadline gets closer and closer, food. But never coffee. Coffee is the drink of the weak.

Real procrastinators run on adrenaline! This energy comes from the looming deadline that eventually clears the mind of all distractions, and provides unrivaled focus. In those moments, I can accomplish anything. I scoff in the face of sleep and refuse to cower at the multiplying tasks before me.

For example: in fifth grade, could I have churned out, in one night, without that rush of next-day deadline-inspired energy and determination, that single-spaced, 80-plus pages fantasy novel (which I received a 100% on, by the way, and which the teacher loved, by the way, and which was at least 77 pages over anyone else’s story, by the way)? Probably not.

Not everyone can be a master of procrastination, as I am. It requires an exceptional ability to think on the spot and still produce high-quality content. This skill has served me well inside the classroom. Last year, when I was suddenly given a thirty-second heads-up that I would present the concluding statement in my U.S. History class in a debate between Patriots and Loyalists, I was able to think through the immense and mounting pressure, and deliver a somewhat improvised but powerful speech that dumbfounded everyone in the room and secured a victory (and extra credit) for our team. Outside the classroom, I have more time to explore personal interests, such as entering contests, because I know that I’ll deliver my best work for everything I do – even if it’s submitted at 11:59 P.M.