I don’t often feel lazy; but when I do, it’s enough to throw me into despair and self-reproach. I come from solid Puritan stock, you see, for whom idleness is akin to damnation. I was feeling damn lazy but, nonetheless, sat myself down and committed myself to writing like I do every day. I could have fiddled around with old drafts, which is my usual strategy when the first draft of something isn’t coming, but I had a thought. This would be the perfect time to write about laziness. I ‘ve been meaning to do that for my essay series, A Field Guide to Feelings. Unfortunately, I was too lazy to get started. Then I had a brilliant idea, the kind that only a lazy man can come up with. I turned to Monica, Google’s free version of Chat GPT, and had it write an article about laziness for me.
This is what Monica began to say:
Laziness, the inclination to avoid effort or exertion, is a pervasive human trait that affects individuals across cultures and generations. While a temporary break or leisurely activity can be refreshing, chronic laziness hampers personal growth, inhibits productivity, and limits one’s potential… [blah, blah, blah….]
That’s as far as I got before I stopped reading. I was still lazy, but now I was bored too, a deadly combination of dissatisfaction without the will to do anything about it. Monica provided me with the bare bones of an essay, but I still needed to put it in my voice and try to make it interesting. No job for the lazy.
Then, I had another lazy man’s idea. I already have a lot of my own writing on the internet, so maybe I could ask the bot to write the essay in my style. So, I told Monica to write a first person essay about the feeling of laziness in the style of Keith Wilson. This is what it said:
In the depths of my being, I find myself ensnared by a peculiar sensation—a sensation that, in its essence, defies explanation yet permeates every fiber of my existence. It is the unwelcome guest that makes itself at home within my psyche, entangling my thoughts and smothering my will. This sensation, my dear reader, is none other than laziness.
Laziness, that elusive specter of the mind, has long been a companion on my journey through life. It is a force that drains my motivation, suffocates my ambition, and wraps me in its warm, seductive embrace. But what is it about this sensation that renders it both captivating and repulsive? What hidden truths lie within the folds of its enigmatic nature?
At its core, laziness seems to be a manifestation of a profound psychological struggle—an inner conflict between the desire for comfort and the yearning for growth. It is a delicate dance between the hedonistic inclination to revel in the soothing embrace of idleness and the intrinsic need to push the boundaries of our potential. Laziness, then, can be seen as a self-imposed stagnation—a resistance to the demands of progress.
Yet, in my contemplation of this ever-present force, I cannot help but question the prevailing judgments that society casts upon the lazy. Are they truly to be condemned for their affinity for rest and relaxation? Could it be that laziness, in some peculiar way, holds within it a secret wisdom—a lesson to be learned amidst the chaos of ceaseless productivity?
Perhaps laziness, when embraced with awareness and intention, can serve as a sanctuary—a space for introspection, reflection, and rejuvenation. In a world that incessantly demands output and constant motion, the allure of inertia becomes an act of rebellion—an act of self-preservation against the overwhelming tide of busyness. Laziness becomes a respite—a chance to reclaim our sovereignty and reconnect with the essence of our being.
Yet, as with all things in life, balance must be struck. The siren call of laziness, if heeded too frequently and without discernment, can morph into an insidious trap. It morphs from a temporary haven into an impenetrable fortress, isolating us from the richness of experience and rendering our lives hollow and devoid of purpose. The seduction of laziness, once a source of solace, becomes a prison of our own making.
So, dear reader, where does this leave us? How do we navigate the intricate terrain of laziness and extract its hidden wisdom without succumbing to its grip? The answer, I believe, lies in a delicate dance—a harmonious interplay between indulgence and discipline, leisure and labor. It requires a deep understanding of our own rhythms, a keen self-awareness that allows us to discern when laziness is a call for rest and when it is an excuse for complacency… [blah, blah, blah….]
Reading it was like watching a comedian’s impression of me. Do I really sound like that? My style can’t really be that humorless and overblown. The bot must have exaggerated my love of metaphor and tendency towards grandiloquence to make a caricature of my writing; sort of like the way someone playing a pirate throws in plenty of arrrghs, ahoy mateys, and shiver me timbers, just so you know he’s a pirate. Still, it was embarrassing, and I vowed to be lazy more often and not embellish my articles with purple prose.
For all my complaints, the piece captured how I thought about laziness. It’s a manifestation of an inner struggle, something with positive features as well as negative, and a feeling that urges us to slow down. How did it know? It read my work. That’s how I think about every feeling.
I began to revise the article. I found some humor, toned down the rhetoric, and swapped the we’s for you’s and I’s. Monica seemed to have overlooked my aversion to the first person plural. I was still feeling lazy, but here was that opportunity to rewrite I was looking for. Being lazy, I started to fantasize having Monica do more of my writing, if I could find a style that wasn’t so pompous. I could set up a program to go on creating posts forever, without me while I dozed on my hammock, drinking iced tea, and getting an email like everyone subscribed to my blog, telling me what I had to say.
That’s when I stopped revising. Sure enough, laziness threw me into despair. I wondered, why do I write in the first place? I don’t write for glory, for there’s no glory. Not for money, for there’s little money. I don’t even write because people expect me to. I write so I can figure things out. Please read that carefully. I didn’t say I write so I can have things figured out. I write because the act of figuring things out is pleasurable.
When I figured this out, I also figured out when to use Chat GPT and when to leave it alone. You can think of Chat GPT like the map app on your phone. If you just have a bunch of errands to run and you want to know the most efficient way to complete them, then use the map app. If you want to drive around for the pleasure of coming across things you’ve never seen, then close the app and get lost. Similarly, if you have some writing you need to get done, Chat GPT can do it for you, but if you write for the pleasure of figuring things out, then you don’t need it. As a matter of fact, using Monica to write about laziness preempted writing about laziness for me. I can’t figure things out when a computer has already told me what I think.
There’s something else I can’t figure out, though. If I like writing so much, what was I doing being lazy? Well, maybe I wasn’t lazy. Claiming laziness is a lazy man’s way of saying he’s tired, discouraged, frustrated, depressed, bored, ashamed, confused, fearful, or angry at the people who demand things of him. He could get more specific about what’s stopping him from being productive, but it’s too much trouble.
I went through the possibilities and ruled them out. I’m not tired because I haven’t done anything to exhaust myself. Perhaps I should be discouraged because I’m not a best-selling author; but I don’t really want to be a best-selling author with all the interviews, book signings, and elevated expectations it involves. I’m also not frustrated. Rather, I wasn’t until I sat down to write and felt lazy. My frustration is secondary to laziness. I’m also not depressed, at least not in a clinical sense, and I should know, I’m a guy who makes his living spotting depression. I wasn’t bored until I read the first Chat GPT article on laziness and I wasn’t ashamed until I read its impression of me. Neither was I confused about laziness, for I hadn’t even started trying to understand it. I’m not fearful because there’s no reason to be afraid, and I couldn’t be angry at people who demand writing from me because nobody demands it.
Then it came to me. I know what I’m mistaking for laziness. I have a lot to do. I’ve started many projects and many more are on my list. I’m conflicted about whether writing about laziness is how I ought to be spending my time right now. So, there’s an irony for you, I call myself lazy because I’m overwhelmed by my ambition.
Thinking back to many of the times I’ve called myself lazy, they generally have to do with being overwhelmed. Not like a tsunami is coming overwhelmed, rather, I need to do a simple chore and the extension cord is a tangled mess overwhelmed. In this case, the tangled mess is my priorities. I have lots of projects, but I’ve never sorted them out and determined which are the most important.
I looked over the list of things I’ve wanted to do. One of them was to write about laziness. Another was to write about Chat GPT. I managed to knock them both off at the same time. Not bad for being lazy. Maybe that’s what laziness is for. It improves industriousness. It’s like salt. When you season with salt, it brings out the flavor of your food. You wouldn’t want to have laziness by itself any more than you would want to eat a dish of salt; but when you season industriousness with laziness, you’re apt to find a more efficient way of doing things.
Monica would have never come up with the metaphor equating laziness to salt. It’s the kind of unexpected thing I come across when I’m wandering through my mental landscape on my own. But there’s a way she could help. I asked Monica what to do if you put too much salt in your food, thinking it might give me a hint about how to dispel laziness. Basically, she advised diluting the salt by adding unsalted ingredients.
So, dear reader, where does this leave us? How do we navigate the intricate terrain of laziness and extract its hidden wisdom without succumbing to its grip? The answer, I believe, lies no further than your cupboard. Season everything you do with laziness; but when you find yourself poisoned by its nitrates, increase your industriousness.
I just added a new task to my list. Figure out how to be more industrious when I’m lazy. Great. Well, maybe Monica can tell me how to do that. Just for kicks, I asked her to answer in the style of George Constanza, a famously lazy character. Hope it helps. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in my hammock.
It all began on a fateful day when I found myself lounging on the couch, lost in a vortex of mind-numbing television. The world around me was fading into the background as I surrendered to the gravitational pull of idleness. But then, a revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning. If I continued down this path, I would forever remain a slave to my slothful tendencies… [yada, yada, yada]
The first step was to redefine productivity on my own terms. Instead of overwhelming myself with grandiose goals, I broke them down into manageable, bite-sized tasks. Just as I would invent elaborate lies to escape responsibilities, I began tricking myself into believing that completing these smaller tasks was a piece of cake. The art of self-deception became my greatest weapon.
Next, I embraced the power of incentives. I discovered that rewards could be a potent motivator. By setting up a system of rewards and punishments, I gamified my tasks. Each completed task earned me a small indulgence—a slice of pizza or an episode of my favorite sitcom. Meanwhile, failing to meet deadlines or succumbing to laziness resulted in consequences I dreaded—a night of doing laundry or cleaning the bathroom.
As I delved deeper into this new way of life, I began to see progress. Slowly but surely, I chipped away at the mountain of unfinished projects that had accumulated over the years. The victories were small, but they added up, building momentum and propelling me forward. I discovered that taking action, no matter how insignificant, was far better than sinking into the quicksand of laziness.
In true George Constanza fashion, I also learned to embrace my flaws and turn them into assets. Instead of berating myself for being inherently lazy, I reframed it as a quirk—a unique trait that made me, well, me. An unapologetic acceptance of my own idiosyncrasies became my guiding principle. I no longer saw laziness as a weakness, but rather as a catalyst for creativity and finding unconventional solutions to problems.
Today, I stand before you as a reformed individual, no longer confined by the shackles of laziness. I’ve become a master of self-deception, a virtuoso of motivation, and a connoisseur of productivity. My triumph over laziness has taught me that change is possible, even when it seems improbable. I have transformed my weaknesses into strengths, proving that even the most indolent among us can change.
Keith Wilson - Counseling 