an ode to procrastination

Procrastination, you're no fun,
Procrastination, you help no one.
Procrastination, I'd rid myself of you,
But it seems there's always something better to do.
Procrastination, my song is sad.
Procrastination, I feel real bad.
Procrastination, you wear me out...
"Hey there! Why sure, I wouldn't mind doing something else."
Procrastination, I'd dump you for self-control...
But procrastination, you just won't let go.
So here I sit, alone with you,
Wishing for a minute free from guilt.
But you just take, and take and take,
I'm now 13 minutes late...r than I would have been,
If I'd not written this poem instead.


I've been on Thanksgiving break since Tuesday night. Tonight is Sunday night. I have two, 10 page papers to write, due next week. Did I write them, or even start on them? No. Did I intend to? Yes. I even sat down at the computer a few times and attempted to start them, but frankly, my heart is not in my school work, which is quite unfortunate for my grades. Why are the longest papers always due at the END of the semester? Here's hoping for a very fruitful evening.

going home

The fall semester here at school is about over, and I couldn't be happier. I cannot wait for the day I get to fly home (the pnw) and

-hang with family
-spend time with my guy
-sleep in my *own* bed
-pet my dog...yes, I realize how lame that sounds...
-just be HOME

It's odd to me that each time I go back, it's harder to say goodbye again when it's time to leave. After four years, it would only be logical to think that the process would get easier. It doesn't. Thinking about coming back so soon makes me sad...and I haven't even left yet.

not a child

My roommate and I recently started taking turns reading a children's book to each other every night before bed. For childhood's sake. Two nights ago, we had an epiphany. And it was a sad epiphany. As we read Pizza For Breakfast, we sarcastically made comments about genies appearing in real life, and about Frank and Zelda's stupidity. As Ashley finished reading the story, it occured to me that our critical remarks proved that we have lost our innocence . A true kid would never criticize the varying lengths of Frank's beard, or entertain the thought that the "little man" was creepy. A true kid would get lost in the story and delight in the pictures and never once think about the improbability of genies and happy endings. There is something that sets a child's mind apart from the adult mind and I now believe that I know what it is.

pb n j

I sat on the floor in my dorm room today and ate peanut butter and jelly out of the jars with my fingers (for sheer pleasure of being childish). And I thought about how good they were-the peanut butter and jelly, not my fingers. And I thought about how thankful I was for them. And then I thought about how much I hated peanut butter and jelly when I was in high school. I also spilled jelly on the new carpet.