Not to Procrastinate

How do we stop believing the lies we tell ourselves?  An article from the BBC recently compared the modern-day procrastinator with Hamlet.  The conclusion that the author reached was that procrastinators— and Hamlet— are worse off than people who do things in a scheduled and timely way.  In my life, I feel that this statement has been true, especially when it comes to academics. 

            Procrastinating has been an issue that I have had to deal with for my entire life.  The author of the article asks an important question, which she then answers perfectly: “we are perfectionists who do our best work under pressure? Baloney.” I attributed Hamlet’s decision to wait so long to kill Claudius to indecision; never did I think that the Prince was a procrastinator.  However, when the author presented this idea, I immediately felt the situation apply to my own life.  Of course, I have never pondered killing my uncle, but I have felt a gripping force that pulls me towards indecision at times when I know that the action I have to take is inexorable.  Nothing is going to happen if I wait a little while to do my math homework…right?  I have lost count of the times that I said something along those lines, only to look back the next day and reply to the previous thought with something like: what an idiot! At the age of sixteen, I know only the inner teenager that the author was talking about.  So why is it that princes and students and journalists all stumble upon the torment of procrastination?  We all have time to decide.  When I walk into class to find a pop quiz on my desk, I don’t wonder whether or not to actually do it.  Hamlet would’ve killed Claudius in Act I had he known for certain that if he didn’t act then he could never have the chance again.  And the journalist always ends up posting an article, even if it has been bogged down by the mediocrity that is the product of procrastination.

            So, what can be said for certain is that procrastination is inevitable, right?  Wrong.  While we know that procrastination is harmful to the pursuit of excellence, we also know it is definitely something that can be eliminated completely when there is no choice but to act.  The biggest lie we tell ourselves isn’t that we do good work when we’re tired, it’s that we can’t stop procrastinating!  Reader, if, after reading Hamlet, the BBC article and this blog, you still find yourself procrastinating, try this simple solution: always take the easy way out— for a while.  You’ll find that after you are fired, or your victim managed to escape, or you failed an entire course, you won’t even think about putting off work the next time you have a choice.  

The Power of Inquiry

The mentality of a man in captivity evolves in ways that may seem incomprehensible to a free man.  An interview that questioned the thought process of violent criminals in a high-security prison wanted to explore Hamlet through the eyes of incarcerated men.  However, the interview evolved into an existential realization for the prisoners.  One question that the interviewer raised in his sessions with the inmates particularly interested me: are we forever the prisoners of our actions? 

This American Life emphasizes that in modern times, we are always the prisoners of our actions as a result of the justice system.  What the prisoners and Agnes emphasize is that they are so psychologically affected by their actions, that they will forever live as prisoners of what they did.  The “palpable” feeling of remorse and discontent that Agnes describes is mirrored from Hamlet to the actors.  The only difference between the actors and the characters is that the actors— who aren’t Danish princes in a play— already made the decision to commit murder and can therefore relive the horror of what Hamlet is about to go through.  While questioning whether we are prisoners of our own actions can make for an exhaustive discussion about the nature of guilt, perseverance, and causality, the question transcends to a deeper philosophical spectrum when the people that are supposed to answer it are literally prisoners because of their actions— some of them for the rest of their lives.  The fact that some inmates know both the cause and the effect of murder makes it is easy for them to understand Hamlet’s indecision when pondering whether or not to kill his uncle.  

The podcast is interesting because it provides the listener with a new take on Act V of Hamlet.  The prisoners’ insight is interesting because they take the listener out of the context of the play and into a broader state of mind.  While I can almost certainly say that no one in my AP Literature class has committed murder, I can also ascertain that all students have done something that they regret.  Even if we didn’t have to go to jail for doing that abominable thing, we do have to deal with the guilt.  So, it is safe to say that Hamlet is a prisoner of his actions, so is “hutch,” so are you, and so am I.  The enormous chasm between Hamlet, a murderer and a high school student was erased by the power of a simple question.

Worthy of Being Compared

J. Alfred Prufrock was written so that scholarly readers would compare it to Hamlet— the character, not the play.  Elliot not only mentions Hamlet in the poem, he makes several references to the traits that mold the famous prince.  Nevertheless, the emotions that two very different works provide, beyond the portion of the poem that has a direct relation to Hamlet's indecision, are what make Prufrock worthy of consideration for comparison.  Elliot provides the reader with interwoven ideas that can be used to identify the beauty of a text that is written with a specific character in mind.

The driving force behind Hamlet's indecision is very different from Prufrock's.  While Hamlet is asking himself whether to kill a king or not, Prufrock is pondering what to do with the woman that he loves. "My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin." Hamlet is torn between the guilt that comes from not avenging his father, and the guilt that he feels he would be left with if he were to kill Claudius.  On the other hand, Prufrock wonders: “Do I dare?” when the only downside to not daring is the passing of time— or as he puts it, “time to turn back and descend the stair.” The inherent difference between the two protagonists can be found in the foundation of their frustration.  Prufrock doesn’t dare to ‘descend’ but he doesn’t dare to act either. In the hopes that those stairs don’t lure him too far towards cowardice, he persuades himself that what lies beyond them is ultimately worse than what would happen if he were to take action.  Hamlet can’t afford to ponder the alternative aftereffect.  There is no doubt in his mind that while the guilt may trouble him, his loyalty to his father dictates revenge as the only viable culmination to his distress.  Both Prufrock and Hamlet are apprehensive about an inevitable crossroads; but the pitfall that awaits the wrong decision is much deeper and more permanent for Hamlet.

So, why is this comparison even valid? Literary magnificence. The beauty of interdisciplinary relations, parallelisms between a poem and a play, lies in the similar emotions that can be transferred to the reader.  The anxiety and trepidation that J. Alfred Prufrock feels can only be compared with that of Hamlet’s own feeling of uncertainty.  Even if the decisions they must make are different and the plots are set in contrasting atmospheres, the emotions that the characters exude weave the two texts together.  Overall, the two works are contrasting even before the plots become a factor. One is a poem and the other a play.  But does it really make a difference when it comes to literary value?  Of course not, Hamlet and Prufrock both make the reader feel anxious.  After reading one has no choice but to wonder: to dare or not to dare?