044. Procraaastinate!


During the week, I think of weekends hopefully, wistfully. “I’ll get things done!” I promise myself. And then I fall headfirst into a few fandom/hobby/wikipedia-spiral. Needless to say, nothing gets done. Unless you really wanted to find a community that ships Mac/PC. (Which I now love). My procrastination of actual homework has reached a new high- I spent today cleaning my room, just so I wouldn’t feel the lack of productivity. I know I’m failing at least two courses.

So, what do I do? Freeze up. I want to take a nap, I crave food, my admittedly low attention span snaps from task to task without warning. I realized how bad it was after I folded clothes, cleaned the cat box without an obnoxious scent prompting me, and willingly loaded and cleaned the dishes. I cooked. …alright, so, maybe Velveeta mac-and-cheese (with chopped hotdogs that are supposed to be healthy. haha. we all know the truth) isn’t gourmet cooking, but I only saw the extent of my stress when I realized I was eating comfort food. And I hadn’t done anything, no elliptical, no DDR, no walk – I try and avoid eating crappy food unless I’m active. But there I was, on the couch with a taped American Idol playing, quietly feeling doomed and quietly pretending I felt fine.

I have stories and memories and ideas to post. But I also have two books to reread, two books to read from my English teacher, SAT work, a topic to chose for the essay-draft I need to turn in (and Hammie will be talking to me about afterschool), a melody for theory, the musical investigation I’ve practically given up for dead, music to practice, and so on.

Posting a list, so I know what needs to be done for sure.


-Fold/sort clothes
-Mop the kitchen
-vacuum, if so inclined, the rest of the place
-CLEAN FLOOR. Clean enough to vacuum the room without fretting about earrings getting sucked up.
-Clean/Put away dishes
-Walk the damn dog
-Clean stick cage
-Water plants. Note which ones should be repotted
-Install ceiling hanger in room, for hanging plant


-That last reading.
-Something about slums and the progressive era.

-Reread Blood Wedding, Ghosts and Antigone
-Figure out which two
-Figure out a topic
-Write that bitch. Comparison, make it deep, comment of author’s intention and for the love of god, assume the reader knows the story. And use MLA. Abuse it.

-Tessellation: Finish
-Gather materials for cover
-Two full-page drawings

-Four-part vocal melody, to the lyrics of the fucking dumb poem. Write it out nicely, if AT ALL possible, to prevent musch Smith-soul-destroying
-Musical Investigation. Um. Find a topic? It’s so overdue it’s beyond funny.
-Practice music for Occ.

Tomorrow, I need to do all the SAT work for the prep course. I would skip it, but I’m already skipping a few due to the play and my parents paid money for it and why did I do that, it was such a fuckingmistake. And I need to watch my cell and be absolutely ready by noon, s my ride can call me and such.

Mr. Smith went nuclear on me. At this point, I don’t blame him. I have done no fucking work one of his classes. The choral group, however, I have been nothing but exemplary. And it’s this group I asked to be excused from, to make up gym I had missed due to his class. He spend five minutes railing on me, to the point of me attempting not to bawl. I finally whispered out the right words, and ran. And as much as I hate the man, I can see why it came to this.

Gym in my school is very much militant. But in gym, you know where you stand. You skip a class, you are fucked. You keep a line of communication with the teachers, tell them when you can make up and why you missed, and they will reflect this maturity in your grade. You miss a class, it’s mandatory make up. Sick? No excuse. Late? No excuse. Your only line out is a school-related thing, and that’s chancy at best, depending on hwo fierce the teacher who you were with is.

But Smith. Smith is very much one where you never know where you stand. As whimsical as the wind, he’ll show mercy or come down hard on you. It all depends on his mood and how much you’ve pissed him off. He’s been getting on my nerves musically for his unproductive directing, brought to light when Many subbed. With Many there, we get dynamics. We get blending. We don’t have a piano, which is bothersome and not great for new music, but with established works we get the polish that makes us the top-level group. Smith, as of this year (or maybe I’m only just becoming aware of it?) teaches a piece. He does that well enough. The polish, however, is gone. The little things a director should catch go unnoticed unless brought up by a student.

Correcting him is a lotto, the result either being extremely good (Sure, we can do that!) a brush off (Later, we need to work on this) or an angry tirade directed at you, complete with your faults being broadcasted in a public forum (RANT RANTY distract and MISS BLAH, you should be CERTAIN you are right before RANT RANT SHAAAAME). He can take personal offense at something minuscule, or he can happy take criticism of severe sorts. Or the other way around. At complete random, seemingly independant of his mood.
Taking an academic class with him was a mistake.

Oh, yeah. And his views and morals bleeed into his teaching and what he allows in the classroom. Merely annoying, not downright offensive most of the times, and he tends to be a tolerant fellow when it comes to the typical race/orientation/culture thing. But MAN. Does he hate tattoos, swearing, anything above PG. And we, as music/theater/band people, are not know for being PG.

I’m procrastinating. Time to do something.


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