The Procrastinator

I came across a sort of self-evaluation piece I did a while back today.  It's written to somewhat mimic the style of The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, which we had just finished reading in the class this was assigned in.  This basically describes the way I go about most projects (to my chagrin).  Anyway, I'm basically using this as an introduction to me, in a way that will hopefully be more interesting than a short biography.

Prologue

And with us also was a Jake, or a jacob, I am not sure which,

As one day he would go by one name, and the next day he would switch.

He had a habit of pacing back and forth, a habit he had had for many a year,

saying that only when he was moving were his thoughts made clear.

And he was quite odd in his way,

Being one day calm and serious, and hyper the very next day.

And he tended to zone out when others would speak,

though he was not attempting to be rude, his attention span was just terribly weak.

But he was also quite friendly as I recall

Willing to give assistance to one and all.

The Procrastinator

One day as I sat on a chair with a desk

I stood up in the room at the teacher's request.

"This task I give you." was her line

"And do not be lazy with this task of mine."

"Write a tale" she said "thirty lines in length."

"And do not let this assignment sap all your strength."

"And that is not all." said she "This tale must rhyme,

And a moral it should have that stays true for all time."

And I thought about this, I thought terribly hard,

How was i to tell such a tale like a bard?

For tales do not suit me, and poems I shun,

My literary ability is comparable to that of a Hun.

And try as I might, not a single idea i could think of to use,

And not a single story appealed to me out of everything I could choose

And, since nothing I could think of seemed right,

I went on through my days trying to forget my plight

I put off my duty with skillful ease,

Doing instead whatever else I did please.

And this tactic worked just fine,

Yes it worked splendidly, for a time.

But as always, I began to hear,

That the due date for the project was drawing terribly near.

And what was I to do now?

This question caused me to crinkle my brow.

What on earth was my story to be?

And what was it to be about?  This was a mystery to me.

And what of a moral?  That too I was at a loss to find,

All of a sudden I found myself in a terrible bind.

It was the last moment, and still I knew not what to do,

I sat there and thought about it for an hour or two.

And then it came to me;  I knew what i would tell,

I would reveal the secret I had learned for doing well

Do not put things off to the last tick of the clock,

Even if your suffering from writers block.