"Tomorrow Will be Different, Really" and Other Lies We Tell Ourselves
This is part of my How to Stop Procrastinating series.
Hey, friends!
I come from a long line of pack rats. I come by it honestly, as my wife likes to say.
Grandpa Bill loved the world of finance and had stacks of books about the stock market. He kept newspaper clippings (from Investors Business Daily) dating back more than 20 years. Keeping track of boxes and boxes of clippings would’ve overwhelmed mere mortals, but Grandpa was a brilliant accountant and concocted an elaborate (convoluted?) indexing system.
My Dad is a collector, too. But he collects exercise equipment. When I was a kid, we spent Saturday mornings (in sunny California) going to McDonald’s and hitting local garage sales. We scored incredible deals on dumbbells, treadmills, health riders, and the occasional Weider home gym. (Is it really a “great deal” if you already own three health riders? But I digress…)
So naturally, as a teenager, I had to figure out what I would collect. I wasn’t fascinated by finance (like Grandpa), and I didn’t dream of being buff like “Arnie” (Dad’s term of endearment for Arnold Schwarzenegger). So, what would I clutter my future home with?
The answer hit me while reading Popular Science. One article detailed how an ordinary guy built a supercomputer out of used desktops. If this guy could string together 100 old Pentium IIs, and make a blazing-fast computer for 1% of the cost of a Cray supercomputer, why couldn’t I? I mean, how hard could it be?
Thus began my slow acquisition of computer parts. Every new motherboard felt like progress toward my goal. Each network interface card kept the dream alive. So I stockpiled them. I amassed CRT monitors and floppy drives and even parallel cables. (Who doesn’t need a good parallel cable? Turns out, no one needs them.)
Now, did I ever get my homegrown supercomputer running? Nope. Did I ever get two nodes networked together? Nope. Did I ever learn how distributed systems even work? Nope, nope, nope. I bought a Distributed Systems textbook—but did I read it? Nope.
Here’s the lie I told myself: Tomorrow will be different. “Future me” will build a supercomputer and have articles in Popular Science published about him. But “Present me” was more interested in socializing, reading Isaac Asimov, and watching spy movies every weekend. (Back then, you could rent five VHS tapes for only $5.)
“Present me” stayed busy daydreaming about everything “Future me” would do. He’d build a supercomputer, learn Spanish (and Japanese and French), read The Count of Monte Cristo in its original French, and create his own spoken language. This language, of course, would go on to supplant Esperanto as the world’s most popular conlang (constructed language).
How long would it take to actually achieve all of my many daydreams? At least ten lifetimes. How many of them did I make measurable progress on? None.
It wasn’t until much later that I accepted that “Future me” was a lie. It wasn’t until much later that I found a handy tool for creating realistic (and achievable) goals.
Here’s the tool: I imagine today being replicated every day for a year. Everything I accomplish today, I’ll accomplish 365 times. Everything I refuse to do today, I’ll refuse to do every day. Like an eternal Groundhog Day.
This is kind of abstract, so let’s look at two concrete examples.
Want to build a supercomputer? If I spend an hour on it today, I’ll spend an hour every day and eventually achieve my goal. But if I procrastinate today, I’ll procrastinate every day, and I should let go of this dream.
Want to learn Japanese? If I learn five words today, I’ll do it every day and eventually become fluent. But if I procrastinate today, I’ll procrastinate every day.
This might sound kind of depressing. But it’s not.
In fact, it gives me great hope. Why? Because anything I accomplish today—any small win or tiny victory—will be repeated hundreds of times until I reach my goal. I just need to make a small amount of progress today. I just need to have enough intestinal fortitude to overcome the Resistance and get started.
Anything is achievable if I work on it today.
As for my dream of building a supercomputer, well, I gave up on it. I have limited time and energy, and I choose to spend them on other interests and hobbies. Right now, those include reading sci-fi/fantasy novels and completing a daily writing sprint.
In the end—and to my wife’s everlasting delight—I hauled those boxes of computer parts to a charity shop. As we unloaded the minivan, the shop’s attendant looked at the pile of equipment and made a face that said, “What am I supposed to do with this garbage?” I imagine he tossed most of that crap. (Seriously, nobody wants ancient parallel cables.)
Read more on How to Stop Procrastinating.
Thanks to Brynn Stewart for reading a draft of this!