For some reason, every time I type an apostrohe, my Find function keeps popping up. That is just plain annoying. Oh well!
Anyway, it is Sunday (and I am avoiding the use of contractions and the like), I am currently at Panera Bread, hurriedly typing away at my Troilus paper. Okay. I am glad, at least, to know that I do not really enjoy Middle English in the ways that others do. However, I did really enjoy reading Chaucer. He is a kick in the pants, but his scholarship is a bit scary.
I have about 7 pages, including two 3-passage long quotes. That is not good. But I only need about 12-15 pages for this bad boy. . . Soon I will be starting my paper on Thomson and his Seasons. That should be interesting, to say the least.
Yet again, I wonder why I always procrastinate till I can no longer wait. What am I thinking? Well, I suppose I am not thinking. I believe that subconsciously I want to fail. . . I desire failure so that I can stop what I am currently doing (because it is too difficult) and move on to something else. But it's not too difficult (yay! that damn apostrophe thing finally went away). And I know that I can accomplish these things, not easily but y'know. I think I'm just plain lazy.
Woo-hoo! Just a week left, and I'll be on my way to someplace else!
Yeah, my summer job. . . I've no idea where I'm going, and I've no idea where I'll be, so this becomes an excitin' new exper'ence that'll shape the way I think. Hop'fully, not too much.
1 comment:
Obviously, the procrastination is a direct result of high school conditioning of IB.
Hey, let me know the details of your job. Mom keeps asking.
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