pure FORESHADOWING (nifra_idril) wrote,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Hitch your wagon to my bullet, I won't steer you wrong.

This time, right now? This, girls and guys, ladies and gentlemen, alligators and heffelumps, is the CRAZY TIME.

Cigarettes: 10
Cups of Coffee: 4, another pot brewing
Hours of Sleep In the Past Three Days: About...eleven. But, you have to factor in the fact that 7 of those were last night.
Papers completed: Sadly, just the one.
Pages left to be written: 30 or so.
Due: Tricky question, that.
Animals impersonated today: None, SO FAR.
Clothing worn: Pajamas. Still.
Yuletide: Thats a nice word, isn't it? All the vowels and consonats come together so very nicely.
Does this mean you haven't started?: That's a really judgmental question.
Does it?: You know, sometimes, I hate the me that asks these things.
...: No, okay, no! I haven't! I hate you! Shuttup!
Wily schemes: Finding a way to write plex without *writing* plex. So as to partake of both slodwick goodness and seperis goodness.
Tension in body: I'd break that hands of any kind soul who tried to give me massage right now.
Requests for the masses: Send me your music. Send me your most good-work-time music. I need it, down to my toes, I need it. Send it to neonnights@illuminatedtext.com, and I shall be *eternally* grateful.

This morning when I woke up (though morning is really a very strong word for when I woke up) I stared up at my ceiling and thought, "You know. I really should just clean the floors of my house instead of writing anything. In the grand scheme of things, that's really more important. If the floor's dirty, someone could get sick from floor-born-viruses. Or, they could slip and fall and hurt themselves. And, really, what good is a completed paper when you're in a full body cast? Or crippled with guilt that someone else is in a full body cast?"

My justifications for procrastination are truly wondrous things.

But, yes, I've entered the stage of being too keyed up to sit still. Fear me, friends, for I am become a hummingbird on methampethamines! The foot, she spins around and around! The fingers, they tap and tap and tap! The pacing, it's almost becoming jogging! The voice has taken on an hysterical edge, and the words, they come so *fast*!

I am moving through the world at a high, high velocity today, and running through anything in my path. I am a heat-seeking missile of insanity. I am three days away from all final deadlines, and having to clean my refridgerator. Oh, dear God, the *humanity*.

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