Wireless internet is both my best friend and my worst enemy.
So the tablet pc I got when I enrolled at Chatham is a wonderful, wonderful thing. It allows me to do my schoolwork (like the paper I'm procrastinating on, but I'll get to that later), has access to internetty goodness, I can play games on it, and all kinds of wonderful things. However I don't actually do my schoolwork. I get distracted. I seriously think I have ADD.
I know I always complain about procrastinating, and I always say that I won't procrastinate next time, but I always do. Always. Procrastination is masturbation. You're only fucking yourself. I have an 8 page paper on criminal risk assessment and recidivism due at 12:45 tomorrow, and I just started earlier today. I knew I had this paper looming over my head (I actually thought it was due a week and a half ago), but I still didn't do anything towards it. I mean, I did, I worked through my sources, but I didn't actually work on the paper at all. In fact, I actively looked for ways to put off my work. Like playing games on the internet, or baking six dozen sugar cookies. Or reading. I love books.
So now, here I sit, 11 hours before the paper is due, and it's officially crunch time. I will be up most of the night doing this paper. And it's not going to be terrible if I don't sleep, because I function very well on caffeine, but I have a scene due for my acting class tomorrow and I need to have the energy to remember my lines. I hate this scene. A lot. It's from The House of Bernarda Alba, and I play the part of First Servant. Fun times.
The Subaru is still acting up today. I was in the parking garage under the Carnegie library in Squirrel Hill, and it wouldn't start, so I put more money in my meter and wandered up into the library. I got myself a library card (the last one I had is long since lost...I was like...maybe 9?), and then I ran into one of my teachers from my first semester at Chatham who has since retired and is now an ESL tutor. We kibbutzed for a little bit, and then I went ferreting around the fiction section until I found a copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel, which I love. Even if the first sentence is a sentence fragment. But I still can't read it because of this paper. Which I am going to work on RIGHT NOW. For realz.
---later---
Yeah, fuck this shit. I just don't care anymore. I don't know what my grade will look like at the end of the semester (I can't get worse than a C), but I just don't have the drive to do this. The topic interested me (please note the past tense), but this is taking all the enjoyment out. I can understand the topic just fine without having to describe it in dry, dusty detail.
I know I always complain about procrastinating, and I always say that I won't procrastinate next time, but I always do. Always. Procrastination is masturbation. You're only fucking yourself. I have an 8 page paper on criminal risk assessment and recidivism due at 12:45 tomorrow, and I just started earlier today. I knew I had this paper looming over my head (I actually thought it was due a week and a half ago), but I still didn't do anything towards it. I mean, I did, I worked through my sources, but I didn't actually work on the paper at all. In fact, I actively looked for ways to put off my work. Like playing games on the internet, or baking six dozen sugar cookies. Or reading. I love books.
So now, here I sit, 11 hours before the paper is due, and it's officially crunch time. I will be up most of the night doing this paper. And it's not going to be terrible if I don't sleep, because I function very well on caffeine, but I have a scene due for my acting class tomorrow and I need to have the energy to remember my lines. I hate this scene. A lot. It's from The House of Bernarda Alba, and I play the part of First Servant. Fun times.
The Subaru is still acting up today. I was in the parking garage under the Carnegie library in Squirrel Hill, and it wouldn't start, so I put more money in my meter and wandered up into the library. I got myself a library card (the last one I had is long since lost...I was like...maybe 9?), and then I ran into one of my teachers from my first semester at Chatham who has since retired and is now an ESL tutor. We kibbutzed for a little bit, and then I went ferreting around the fiction section until I found a copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel, which I love. Even if the first sentence is a sentence fragment. But I still can't read it because of this paper. Which I am going to work on RIGHT NOW. For realz.
---later---
Yeah, fuck this shit. I just don't care anymore. I don't know what my grade will look like at the end of the semester (I can't get worse than a C), but I just don't have the drive to do this. The topic interested me (please note the past tense), but this is taking all the enjoyment out. I can understand the topic just fine without having to describe it in dry, dusty detail.