I just have, you know, so much to say right now. For starters, I have comPLETELY run out of any sort of will power to write my final papers. Actually, make that brain power. It took me four tries to write the word 'write' in the last sentence. First it was 'right', then it was 'wright', then it was 'right' again.
I had, honestly, this entire day to work on one of my papers, but I managed to find other more interesting things to do. Like call my old insurance company. That's fun. Or edit a classmate's paper for her and then write her a way too long critique of it. Or check blogs, People.com, Facebook, and my email obsessively. Or go to WhatBird.com to figure out what bird is currently at my suet feeder.
Yellow Rumped Warblers, thankyouverymuch.
Or watching my suet feeder with binoculars for hours and daydreaming about the back door neighbors calling the cops on me because they think I'm looking in their windows with my binoculars but I'm not because I'm really just watching for birds at my suet feeder.
I think of the things I would tell the law when they got here.
"Unbelievable! I have a bird feeder! See? Look through the binoculars! See the birds? See my detailed notes?" And then maybe I would fix the cops a snack and see if they'd stay awhile and tell my crazy cop stories. They would write "false alarm" in their reports and they would do extra patrols by my house and whenever they saw me they would ask, "Those back door neighbors giving you anymore trouble, ma'am?" And I would say "No, Sir."
That would be fun.
Maybe it's the subject of my papers. The one I should have done today? 7-8 pages about critical issues in the play Wit by Margaret Edson. It's a wonderful play. But, you know, it's about an English professor who loves the metaphysical poetry of John Donne and who dies of ovarian cancer.
I'd rather watch the Yellow Rumped Warblers, thankyouverymuch.
Did you know that a group of warblers is called a bouquet? That's what I'd tell the cops. "There was a bouquet of warblers at my feeder, Officers. I swear."
The other paper I have to write is on William Faulkner's Light in August, a book that, with more than 500 pages, I have yet to read.
That paper is due Tuesday at 9 AM.
Don't feel sorry for me. I did this to myself.
Anyway, some of you may have noticed a spike in my email and Facebook usage over the last several days. Anytime this happens you can be sure it's because I'm avoiding doing something else. I compiled a list of my top 25 favorite songs and sent it to one of my best friends. Because, you know, who WOULDN'T want to know their friend's top 25 favorite songs? I wrote on almost everyone's wall on Facebook (that's a gross exaggeration). But still. Seriously. I'm the biggest procrastinator you have EVER met.
And I guess that's okay. I get to watch a lot of birds.
But with all this Facebook usage I have come to realize that there are several things I hate about the site. Once, a few Christmases ago, I bought some funny t-shirts for some friends for Christmas. They said things like "You Have Died of Dysentery" and "That's What She Said!" on them. The next thing I knew, they were all over my profile. So much for surprises. Also? Is there anyone who loves the 25 Things About Me chain? No.
And I'm not the only one who has gripes with Facebook.
Plus, it doesn't write my papers for me.
Well, gotta go, someone just wrote on my wall! I'm popular!