Hi. My name’s Will, and I’m a serial procrastinator. And I think I know why. Wikipedia defines “The Nirvana Fallacy as “the logical error of comparing actual things with unrealistic, idealized alternatives.”

Side effects of the Nirvana Fallacy include an increased amount of procrastination due to fear that an outcome won’t measure up to an idealized, perfect outcome and a harsher judgment of self and others for failing to measure up to an unreachable standard.

This explains everything.

This explains why there’s an entire drawer at my parent’s house full of quickly discarded ideas for stories and half-developed screenplay pitches from my days as a shut-in high school student with far too much time on his hands.

This explains why the mere possibility of thinking about my future after graduation sends me straight for a cigarette and a stiff drink.

This explains why I’m writing this at the last minute despite the fact that I had a whole week during spring break to hammer it out and using Wikipedia as a source instead of doing any actual research.

This explains why I can’t stand to look at myself in 90 percent of the clothing I own.

This explains why I find myself constantly scoffing and raising my eyebrows behind my remarkably unbroken pair of Versace sunglasses at people proudly sporting their fur-fringed Crocs and pseudo-mullets and noticing, while I work concession at a movie theater, that most people ordering DIET Coke follow it up by ordering a large popcorn with extra butter and pulling their American Express card out of their elastic-banded jeans.

I blame the movies.

I’ve spent the greater part of my life devoted to watching, reading about and analyzing the output of great filmmakers. And now, thanks to my lifelong obsession with a cinematic world full of actors with perfect teeth and unrealistically expensive wardrobes, exciting and dramatic storylines and soaring musical scores, I can’t help but find reality to be tedious.

Every day, I wake up (late) for class and am disappointed to find that there has not, in fact, been a zombie outbreak that will force me to show my true inner strength. I wait in the airport every break and wait to have a whirlwind round of flirtation with a stranger I meet in line at Starbucks, who, wouldn’t you know, just happens to have an extra ticket to Japan-but to no avail. I never meet an alien with a fondness for Reeses Pieces and a team of NASA scientists hunting him down.

I need to learn that, sometimes, there’s something to be said for making the best of everyday life and value in a hard day’s work, even if a professor doesn’t write me an enraptured e-mail about the brilliance of my paper or the Independent Film Channel doesn’t offer me job based on a particularly insightful bit of film criticism.

And, yes, these are two fantasies I am not a stranger to entertaining.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. I did manage to finish this column, after all.

Will Holston is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He is the Arts editor for The University News.