I’ve been meaning to write this column for a very long time now, but I never got around to it. There has always been something to stop me – some tired subject I found more important or, at times, funnier to write about. But really, I think it’s because I never knew exactly what to write.

Or I just got caught up in writing about nothing at all.

At the end of our last school year, I promised myself to sit down during my summer break and periodically bang out a few of these columns to get ahead of myself. The idea was to sidestep inevitable writer’s block and save time for sleep. With all the freedom I had during break, I thought I could generate enough columns in advance to avoid even a single keystroke come fall.

That never happened. I procrastinated. Summer flew by faster than a cheetah on steroids, and dust fell onto my laptop like a stiletto-clad clubber. And now here I am, noisily struggling to survive an innocent opening to my second year as a columnist.

Of course, we are all procrastinators to some degree. Most of us put off household chores or homework, postpone an important surgery or forget to put up the Christmas tree until the night before – unless, of course, it’s still there from last year. Some of us even delayed our own birth.

We then begin to qualify depth to our procrastination, telling ourselves that whatever nonsense we’re doing is in fact purposeful. “Call of Duty” becomes a mental workout. Monday Night Football becomes a lecture on time management. Maxim magazine and beer pong become anatomy and physics experiments.

This is the irony of the deadly attribute – we burn more energy procrastinating than we would in completing the actual task at hand.

And because carpe diem has never seemed to come naturally for the vast majority of us, procrastinators will say this so-called dangerous characteristic is only a voluntary form of patience. After all, anything worth doing would have already been done – right?

Thus, in all likelihood, you are procrastinating this very minute. You are avoiding studying, setting up your apartment or paying your parking meter violations.

Whatever the case, I salute you, fellow procrastinator – because in the age of Adderall, dilly-dallying has become a virtue. It is an honorable endeavor against an energetic and programmed world, a rebellious denunciation of the MLA-style customs of a standardized society and a raised middle finger to an institutionalized mechanism of Post-it notes, corkboard calendars and iced mochas – one that shouts, “Washington State University, I will study when I’m damn well ready to!” I’d like to thank the academy.

Nonetheless, the rebellion never seems to carry itself through. You are never quite ready – because there is always one more. One more “CSI” episode to watch. One more bag of chips to eat. One more Facebook message to send. One more column in The Daily Evergreen to read.

Before you know it, you’re reading a column about your inability to stop reading columns. And you think it will magically solve your problems.

So continue your lazy ways, my procrastinating friends, and remember that if it were not for the last minute, nothing would ever get done. And for those looking for some sort of advice on their procrastination problem – seize the day.

Tomorrow.