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2002-12-05 - 11:37 a.m. I found it amusing last night that four out of the five people online on my buddy list last night were in the midst of all-nighters, cranking out papers on various topics ranging from Kafka to the psychology of married couples. I don't know why I found it so amusing- I always waited to the last minute to write every paper I was ever assigned. I have very fond memories of printing out a paper, then being forced to go get in the shower to be ready for 8:30 classes. And the funny thing is, unlike the incoherent meandering babble you read here, I managed to write some really decent stuff. My paper on Ukrainian folk songs for World Music prompted the professor to comment "Sarah, you are really one who should think seriously about graduate school- I'd be happy to talk with you about it!" My (17 page!) paper for eeeeeevil online sex psych class got an A- and the comment of "This is a good paper." High praise from that bastard professor, let me tell you. I've written studies on acid rain, compared the expressions of courtly love in "The Decameron" and "The Romance of Tristan", studied the history of the dizi (the Chinese traditional flute) and the Western classical flute. I babbled on about the repertoire of the troubadours. I wrote about "The Planets", "Appalachian Spring", and Beethoven's Symphony no. 9. I also wrote discourses about three distinct events in English history after the Glorious Revolution that unfortunately I remember nothing about now. The only thing I remember about that class is that the professor was from New Zealand and had an adorable accent and was also kind of cute in that sloppy, bookwormish, professor from New Zealand kind of way. Wow. It sounds like I was once damn smart. I ain't no more, I is sure. Hee. So what's my point? All of said drivel was written between the hours of 11PM and 7AM. And none of it got a grade lower than a B+. With a deadline hanging over my head, I can accomplish miracles. Procrastination works. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. *********** I am sick of winter already. Snow can kiss my fat white muffin ass. *********** I've got a terrible urge to go to the mall. The real mall, not Sears-mall. But maybe I'll just settle for Snootyville. Well this was all very pointless. I should get off my ass and go practice flute. Or at least finish off that last piece of pumpkin pie. Yes, I think the latter will do. Adieu. 
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