Ode To my Procrastination...

I promised this year would be different. That this year I would try harder, and I would not get bogged down with all the crap that plauged me last year. A new degree, a new direction, a new beginning. No longer the ex-student, but now the "Ex Ex-Student". Student 2.0. Super-Student if you will. I made a few new rules to myself.

1. No more extra curricular activities (ie no more volunteering positions) that do not in some way benefit me or make me happy.

2. No leaving assignments till the last minute

3. Work my ass off because I finally have a goal. This includes no getting attached to TV shows, seeing too many movies or reading non school material books.

I have now been in school two weeks and have broken all three of my new rules. Shattered them to bits. Have broken them down into pieces, and used them to build a mosaic for which my school and work schedule have been built around. Sigh. I tried.

I have managed to take on more skating things than I should have that just stress me out and and have annoyed me, I have an assignment due that I cannot complete because I didn't get into the class till last minute and have not yet purchased the manual from the professor personally and I am totally slacking.

Currently I sit, not attempting to get my hands on a course manual, but watching "You've Got Mail" because I saw a portion of it on TV today and am dying to see the whole thing again. Not because I particularly enjoyed the film but because it is more enjoyable than writing an essay on Keats's "Ode On a Grecian Urn".

Keats has been described as one of the most romantic poets of his time, a revolutionary, who was born last and died first of tuberculosis, leaving his family and fiancée behind. He went through great suffering, died young and yet when I read his works, all I want to do is poke myself in the eye. I do not care if he looked at some urn and reveled in his own death and how he had to leave this woman he loved for his own good. All I can say to this is "Shit happens!". Get over it! Lots of people have to make tough decisions, and deal with deal and desire. Why should we care that Keats went through it? I'd rather watch Moulin Rouge. Ewan McGregor? He can sing, dance AND looks hot in a cumberbund. That? So worth breaking my rules over any day.