I’m supposed to be comparing Marx and Durkheim, but instead I’m comparing my rate of procrastination with the deadlines of all my finals.
Yes, it looks like it’s not going to work out. There’s just not enough time in the day to stare at my ceiling and watch Phineas and Ferb while I drink too much coffee and drown myself under the idea of starting this paper. Not actually doing it. Just the idea of it. Not the idea of writing the whole paper. Just the idea of starting it.
Oh, well.
On an unrelated note, I started kind of seeing a boy. Haven’t asked him permission to blog about our escapades, but once this semester ends and this paper (and three others) are written, look forward to a lot of blogs about how much I suck at dating. Or whatever it is we’re doing.
No, really.
I’m terrible at it.
Since my last real relationship (nearly three years ago), I’ve been wondering why I’m so remarkably unlovable. I’ve come up with several conclusions over the last few weeks. One such conclusion is that I’m bad at boys. I’m awkward and judgmental and just generally indifferent. Plus, I have no filter. And considering the fact that he doesn’t know me that well yet, I’m not sure if he knows that 98% of everything I say or text is spoken and written in jest.
It’s okay.
I’m forever alone, but at least I have Internet. And this boy, until he becomes inevitably uninterested.