So. I know what you're thinking. It may sound like, "Megan! You're still barely afloat in the sea of last minute work and projects that are due all in the next week!"
And you would be right. But, I'm doing something called procrastinating. It's not generally recommended behavior, but most things in my life aren't generally recommended. Like doing lines of coke off a stripper's bum.
If by chance you have actually been recommended to partake in drugs off a sex worker's buttocks, you need to rethink your life choices.
Anyway. This week is hellish. All four of my culminating projects are due and guess how many are done?
None?
Precisely!
Because most of my teachers had the BRILLIANT idea that they should also assign a plethora of other assignments in the few days surrounding the culminating due dates and exams and please help me I think I'm losing my mind.
Today's a good day, if anyone's wondering. Yesterday was good too. Well, if you count spending three hours writing an 8 page short story about the end of the world. It was great fun for me, but then again, I am a writer. and writers aren't exactly known for having the most sane minds.
It's actually kind of awesome. I get to imagine conversations and voices and people and whatnot in my head, and no one locks me up for it.
Something that gets a little annoying though is how my mind never takes a breather. Almost 24 hours a day, I'm thinking about a number of things at once. Like, take just a little while ago for instance.
Picture me. I'm five foot three, blonde, and leggy. (HAH). So, I'm sitting on the couch, playing a video game. (Prototype for the xbox, FYI). And I'm in the middle of a particularly annoying fight with a hunter. So, in the middle of this concentration, I suddenly pause the game and stand up. My mother looks up with a slightly frightened look on her face. I toddle over to the entertainment system and pull out Supernatural season 4, because I forgot what the episode was called in which Jimmy Novak is introduced. (It's called The Rapture, FYI). I then toddle over to my purse, where I pull out my planner and check that the 10th really is a Monday. (It was, FYI).
And all that was going on in my head. At the SAME TIME. Is it any wonder that I suffer from generalized anxiety disorder?
Anyway. I didn't come here to blather on about how much I multi task in my brain.
I came here to procrastinate, of course. And now, I really have to get back to editing that end of the world short story.
So. Checklist:
Talk about anxiety? Check.
Talk about Supernatural? Check.
Talk about drugs and strippers? Check.
Alright, all good. Adieu.
Love,
Megan
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