If I accomplished something, it must have taken too much time. If I am planning something, I must be planning to take too much time. If I am doing something, I must be going too slowly.
I feel guilty about time, or fearful. But really, the key to everything is to give yourself enough time, not too little. That is not “procrastination,” although I was taught it was. This is very important.
*
But I feel I have finally discovered a good use of Boice today, as his advice is helping me organize mundane work.
This only shows, though, why I am uneasy about him as a writing guide — despite agreeing with a number of his practical suggestions. At bottom I feel he approaches writing as an unpleasant chore, that one can accomplish cheerfully. This is how I feel about some things, but not about that.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
Or. Is my whole issue just some strange adolescent rebellion trip, or some form of acting out against Reeducation, or to what *extent* could that be true?
And what would I be rebelling against? Warnings, carefulness, safety. Against achievement undertaken just to satisfy others. Against conventionality?
(I think I have to figure out what I am trying to accomplish in weak ways and find better ways to do it.)
That article in the New Yorker said that yes, procrastination is rebellion–against time.
I know. But I think that what I rebel against is … alcoholism?
Tell me not to teach well and to write fast, and I will hear that Emeritus Professor well into his cups and say … I will not grow up to be that man.
My problem with that is, I am not thrilled about “teaching” (I do love to discuss ideas with people) and I love research.