Things are falling apart

There is a 12 page paper for my philo class?! Why is there an at least 12 page long final paper all of a sudden. I've done film modules. And they were only 10 pages long. And that was the maximum. Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why

UPDATE: After seizing up in horror on Monday, my lecturer informed us that the paper is now 5 pages long. That is a nice, sane, number. Only it is now due on the same day as my Milton paper. The looong one. Argh.

Post Over-nighter

Hereafter, I will always be grateful for a chair which I can lean into. I'm not even asking for it to be cushy; it just has to have a back for me to lean mine on.

Hereafter, I will always not procrastinate to this extent ever again.

Hereafter, I will not complain about not meeting ghosts anymore, not because I met one, but because my whining is clearly driving them away. That night was severely disappointing.

Hereafter, I will ensure that I stake out a bench in AS4 early. That block seems endowed with the correct bad fengshui - it's cold, the garden outside looks perfectly creepy and definitely exudes a an air of being deserted.

Hereafter, I will do my work on time.

Hereafter, I will stop beaming at the camera at 1 am in the morning because I apparently just look really anguished. I was trying not to laugh. And I still can't believe I smiled at the camera like that.

Get away Freud!

Last night, or rather early this morning, I dreamt that I was doing my presentation for psychoanalysis class and TR asked if anyone knew who Kierkegaard was. I raised my hand and said "Heidegger" trimphantly.

My group members and TR stared at me blankly. But the worse bit of it was that I had no idea why.

And as to why I would be dreaming about existentialism in a psychoanalytic class is anyone's guess. I am just glad Tamburlaine didn't show up and bore the class to death with his high astounding terms.

And now it's too bloody early. I feel sucky and I am rambling.

Because lightning is scary and rain is good

In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain.
- T. S. Eliot 1922

It is raining like mad and each time the lightning hits the condo opposite me, I wince. Which makes it a lot of winces. I am also procrastinating. Just so I can look back at this post and roll my eyes at how hopeless I am in focusing on something.

Additional note to self: I change my mind about living in a penthouse. I don't want my house to keep being struck by lightning as the penthouse opposite keeps being. Yup. I don't want one unless it happens to defeat the purpose of owning a penthouse by being the shortest building in its vicinity.