To the extent that I am actually writing this at 11.34pm, not 11.04 when I supposedly started writing this. Now that's procrastinating procrastination, which I think is pretty impressive.
Darn English coursework. It isn't that I don't like the text, but I don't like the essay. It just isn't nice. I mean, I reckon it is the better of two evils and I actually couldn't think up my own question or subject to write about, or else I would have, but still.... mrrgrhhrahhggh. (And no, I don't know what that sounds like, apart from like mrrgrhhrahhggh.) I've written almost 1600 words and I know there's more to write, but it feels so bitty and mrrgrhhrahhggh. I like that word. Mrrgrhhrahhggh. Mrrgrhhrahhggh. Mrrgrhhrahhggh. That felt good. And I want to paint some silk, except I don't have any plain silk in the house and I can't be bothered to go all the way to Greenford just to buy some silk. And I have lots of work still to do. A poem critique, maths and oodles upon oodles of further maths (an entire chapter of exercises on something I vaguely understand and then I have to teach myself another chapter, which is supposedly "easy". Yeah right. If it's easy, then I'm a Dutchman).
Not to mention the coursework. (Wha..? Did I mention something there?)
Theatre tomorrow. :D
(I like this font.)
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