I make poor decisions when I'm tired

With every passing second, I become less able to finish my assignment. And what am I doing? I'm blogging. Not annotating the bejeezus out of my bibliography or creating a cogent paper proposal. Oh no. It's three in the morning and not only has the Spirit gone to bed, but so has my work ethic. I have only enough responsibility clinging to the shreds of my consciousness to realize that I should finish. I can't give up and sleep. But at this point, that may be the best solution.

Why don't some professors put their late policy on their syllabus? They know someone (me) is probably going to turn something in late, and they're (I'm) gonna want to know how that's gonna hurt my grade. Not publishing it in the syllabus interferes with my agency. I can't make a good decision without all the information. And it's annoying as all get out. But at this point, I'm probably incapable of good decision-making, regardless of the information I have (or don't have).

I have roughly 6 hours before this annotated bibliography is due. It's supposed to be 6-9 pages, with a minimum of 10 sources annotated. I'll tell you right now, that ain't gonna happen. Dang. This is gonna hurt. In so many ways.

Where's my Zipfizz?

I've got a little time

I always seem to blog in the few minutes between classes. A paragraph here and there, always on the clock. Tip-typing away when I should be napping or looking over assignments or something responsible like that. But I'm not being responsible right now. I've printed what is due and I have 20 minutes to spare. So what do I do? I blog. And I go to this website. You should too.
http://www.mcphee.com/shop/

My knees are like a bowl of Rice Crispies Cereal

Well, as my last post mentioned, I "changed my pants" yesterday, and am now "pantless." Well, I was all in a funk about it late last night, so I decided to go for a run. At 1AM. Yes, I know its not safe, and that I'm not a good runner (or a runner at all), etc, etc, etc. But I needed to do something that didn't require thoughts, I needed to get out of my head. So, I went for a run. And I ran and ran and ran. Well, I walked too. Doing something that was just physical was very therapeutic. Just feet on the pavement, one in front of the other, breathe in, breathe out. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Feeling the muscles flex, and complain in under-used whines. Forcing my body to keep moving--pushing through effort of will. It was great.

I figure some things out on this random run. First, I am not in good shape. Not that I didn't know that. But I also felt much better about some of my recent decisions. I needed to do something for me, I couldn't keep pushing my own wants and needs aside for others. Not only that, but I needed to do something right now. I make a lot of decisions for myself for the future--studying hard so I can get good grades, so I can get into a good grad. program, so I can, so I can... You see? Now, I'm not saying going pantless was easy, or that it won't continue to be hard, I mean, I went on a long middle-of-the-night run because I was feeling cruddy about it. But it'll be okay. I made the best decision for me--and I feel that in every fiber of my sore legs, in every pop of my joints. But then again, maybe I didn't make such a good decision after all... maybe next time I'll try drinking.

Friendship is....

Awesome. Sometimes. Sometimes it's a bitch. My friend Leah once told me that friendship is like peeing your pants--everyone can see it, but only you can feel its warmth. But then the pee gets cold, and if you don't change, you'll get diaper-rash, but worse, because you are wearing jeans. I recently changed my jeans and let me tell you, I feel so much better now. Now I'm going pantless and it feels great. Woohoo!

German Philosophers

So, I've been reading a lot of philosophy recently, especially German philosophy. And I realized something--they all look like rapists and child molesters. Take a peek.

But here's Goethe.

And Kant- wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alleyway.

Schiller's not so bad. But he could disembowel you with his nose.

And my personal favorite- Fichte. I definitely would not want to meet him on a playground, or help him look for his lost puppy. He probably ate the puppy.

You see? I know- creepy.

Shower Thoughts: Ouch?

So, in the shower this morning, I discovered a grapefruit-sized bruise on my leg. It's a pretty shade of purple. It doesn't hurt, and that's fine. But what's worrying me is that I have NO idea how I got it. I mean, you'd think I'd remember that kind of trauma. Nope. Not a clue. I woke up this morning and there it was, pretty as you please, the same color as Crown Royal bags. Appeared, as far as I know, out of nowhere.

This worries me. I mean, what if my roommates are exacting their Emily-left-dirty-dishes-in-the-sink revenge and I sleep right through it? What else am I sleeping though? Am I sleep walking? Or am I just losing my ability to remember painful events that (usually) result from my clumsiness? What if I'm repressing an embarrassing biff? What else am I repressing? What if all my memories are in fact, made up, and I have no past? Maybe I'm crazy and the life I "live" is the result of experimental drugs given to me by evil doctors with weird mirrors on their foreheads? What if this isn't real? What if I'M not real?

At least, that's what I thought while I shampooed my hair.

In the five minutes before class...

Don't talk to me just now. I'm typing madly. I'm busy. And even if I weren't--don't talk to me just now. I'm in a good place for just this moment. If you talk to me, I'll lose it. You'll interrupt my equilibrium. Set me off balance. And I don't want to deal with feeling tipsy and topsy-turvy right now. I would like to be at peace for just a few more minutes. Maybe we'll talk later, but not just now.