Day 227
Okay not gonna lie it is nearly 4 o'clock in the morning and I have been putting this thing off for a few hours while I was watching Ellen DeGeneres scare celebrities. Then as I was clicking on a few other clips of her and her show on youtube when I stumbled upon a clip of a comedy show of hers where she describes procrastination. She says that she doesn't do what she is supposed to then she gets mad at herself, then she gets depressed because she still doesn't do what she is supposed to. Then I was like, "Fine Ellen, goddamnit I'll write the fucking thing!" So, here it is:
It was too cold to read today. When my bodyguard had once informed me that it was too cold for him to read outside I thought he'd gone mad. But, today when I was out on the balcony of my building, after I'd sat there in shirtsleeves, then in a sweatshirt, then just a little while after I put on my socks and then I finally realized that this time my ADD was caused by coldness, not by my constant sugar high and caffeine frenzy. Yeah, sometimes it's too effing cold to read. My bodyguard was right. That fucker.
I have a new goal, and that goal is to be so fucking productive with my own writing that I will only have time to go on facebook like once a week. I would be the coolest person I know if I didn't spend half my life on facebook. And for what? It's really goddamn boring looking at the page of a friend of a friend who you now know only has 34 friends. I can't believe I would settle for such mediocre entertainment. But, now that I have over 200 friends I suppose I should be basking in the ridiculous popularity. But really, is Kevin Smith my friend? I do not recall him coming out bowling for my birthday last year. And, I'm pretty sure if Kevin Smith was really my friend I wouldn't have to spend half of my time on facebook gathering up people I didn't talk to in high school, browsing their pics to see if they had anymore kids and playing a game where I score an imaginary point in an imaginary game each time I see that they have created more future facebook-aholics. I am going to pretend like I am just playing this game until I figure out how to win it, or until Kevin Smith calls me up.
Tonight I went to a birthday party at a yuppie restaurant. How can I tell it's a yuppie restaurant? Well, the staff wear black, are generically pretty, the food has beets in it for color reasons, and it is filled with tons of people who look exactly the same. The only thing I am really wondering about though is whether or not yuppie bars in the U.S. have TVs hanging on every wall and column showing hockey games. I do not have much experience in these situations but my guess is that in the U.S. yuppie bars may have TVs everywhere tuned to golf or tennis. Yep, every hockey bar that I've ever been to has beer signs on the walls, and people dressed in hockey jerseys, drinking beer not martinis with names like Wild Orchid or Viva Diva. Oh Canada and your pussy upscale hockey bars disguised as yuppie watering holes.
I spent most of the day reading rewrites for my classes. Rewriting is an excellent thing and like 90 percent of the writing process, therefore super important for one to do while in a Creative Writing Master's program. This means that when you are workshopping your classmates work (reading, making comments, and talking about it in class) you see the same stories sometimes. Who wants to read the same story (the one they didn't really like to begin with) a second time? For this reason alone I should never teach Creative Writing. I can't imagine actually taking the time to mark rewrites. Anyway, not only did I have to read re-writes I had to read the emails they were attached to, emails that said that the rewrites still had a long way to go and basically, the author thinks that their story still sucks. Gee, not only did I read it before, but even the person who wrote it thinks it sucks, can't wait to get started!
Confession: There I was coming home on a crowded bus and a good looking man was standing next to me and not only did I pretend he was my boyfriend, I tried to use telekinesis to get him to talk to me. Then a few stops later we broke up as he didn't offer me the seat that became available. It's all for the best though, it's not like he was all that talkative.
Tip of the Day: If you whine to your mother long enough that you don't have any socks without holes she will buy you new ones, but it may take many months of whining before she mails them to you.
-Canadian Castaway
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