"The word 'time' split its husk; poured its riches over him; and from his lips fell like shells, like shavings from a plane, without his making them, hard, white, imperishable words, and flew to attach themselves to their places in an ode to Time; an immortal ode to Time." -Mrs.Dalloway, Virginia Woolf

Friday, March 9, 2012

Procrastination: A Dialogue

What happens when I'm trying to write a paper.
Note: This actually happened yesterday.


Me: I’m a terrible person!!! I haven’t written anything! I’ve been procrastinating this whole time!

Friend: That doesn’t make you a terrible person. It makes you a terrible student.

Me: I’m a terrible student!!

Friend: What have you been doing for the past two hours instead of writing? Were you watching TV?

Me: No, I wasn’t! I wasn’t even doing anything remotely normal!

Friend: Then what were you doing?

Me: . . .I was looking at photographs of abandoned mental hospitals!

Friend: . . .

Me: . . .

Friend: I was following you up until the part about abandoned mental hospitals!

Me: . . .and this is why facebook-blocker just doesn't cut it for me.

No comments:

Post a Comment