I’m such a terrible procrastinator, it’s depressing.
The wonderful thing is that I’ve got tomorrow off for Columbus day. This is good because I’ve got a paper due on Tuesday, 2-3 pages, that I haven’t written past the introduction paragraph. Not to mention whatever the hell’s been assigned for Geometry.
Then I have the PSAT testing on Wednesday which is just fabulous because that means I will be missing both Psychology and Spanish. That means I get to go straight from PSATs to Choir, where the teacher is uptight this year and we usually are forced off into sectionals which suck because the people that lead the Soprano section are absolute bitches with sticks up their asses.
I’m not bitter, though.
Mom and I were supposed to make cookies today but I don’t think she’ll hold on to that because she’s on the phone with some dumbass in New York despite the fact he’s married and she’s been on the phone for a long time which is not only creepy but creepy for HER, as she’s one who doesn’t DO things like call random guys that she doesn’t know. Whatever. Very annoying.
Today, I watched a documentary on the history of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell followed by It’s Kind Of A Funny Story which is a wonderful movie and an even better book. I’d read the book awhile back but I’d never seen the movie until today.
I have this really disgusting feeling like I’m tired, except I’m not. It’s kind of a groggy and indifferent-except-pissed-off-at-everything sort of feeling. I don’t know, that’s a terrible description, I’m aware. But that’s how I feel. I want to start going to a counselor and I asked Mom to call but she refuses when I actually ask her to. The only times she’s ever offered to do it on her own are when we’re actually talking peacefully and I’m enjoying it. It’s fucking terrible. But she’ll call a strange man in New York she’s never met.
I have really got to stop bitching about that stupid ordeal.
Here comes the tired part of this awful mood. I’m like physically exhausted, and hot, and gross. But I’ve already showered today and really don’t want to again. So I turn the A/C on except it’s too cold. Fuck, man. What’s with me? Is this some sort of weird bipolar-temperature sickness? I dunno. My mom’s been sick for awhile now but refuses to get anything heavier duty than fucking Aspirin. I suppose it’s not even unlikely that she’s got me sick, but.. huh. I dunno.
I’m making myself write because I’m disgusted with how little I’ve been writing when I SAID I would write every day. It used to come so easily and now the days just evaporate without having any time devoted to writing. And the things I write are so short. This here up until this point is just 484 words. And next month I’m expecting myself to be able to write 1667 words per day? Oh yes, that’ll happen.
Although, I’ve got an alternative idea that may just work out. No details, because I KNOW the one person that really reads this is going to ask -_- But it’s something I know would make the mark and something I might could feel comfortable with writing. We’ll see how it goes up until then.
Yeah I’m sorry but I can’t keep myself writing anymore, this is just depressing. Perhaps I’ll write later dare I tempt Fate that I just might find inspiration, but I don’t think it’ll happen. With less than 600 words … Adieu, WordPress.