This post is just me rambling about nothing, and contains limited smarm or humor; if you don't want to read me rambling about nothing, this post is not for you.
I feel I ought to get into the habit of writing more often. It might get me better ad focusing, or writing when I actually need to do it (which I've been having some trouble in), and will at the very least get me better at typing on this tiny netbook. With little tiny keys. Fragile keys. Anyway, where was I...
Right. Something about writing. I'd really love to get back to writing fiction, I really did love that. Maybe that's what I should do here, just have a scenario and character and write until something bad happens to one of 'em. Because that's entertainment.
Then again, I am quite tired and have work to do, so I'm not really sure. Not really sure about a lot these days. My sister keeps saying I should write a blog, it'd be good for me, that type of stuff. Still not positive on the whole concept of puting all your innermost thoughts out into the world for anyone who cares can look, though I do respect the concept of wanting someone to know something without actually having to tell them. That part goes all the way back to kids in elementary school having their friends tell the girl they liked that they liked them, and I suppose the logical conclusion of that phoenomena would be to publish all your thoughts; those who care will know, those who don't will not, and nobody gets pegged with "I want you to know" because all you're doing is 'putting it out there.'
Maybe that's what I'll do with this entry. Put it online. Evidently, some people like just listening to me talk. Never understood that much myself, but I guess I do know the feeling. There exist people who I could listen to ramble for hours (which is fortuate, as my personal favorite will habitually do just that) so perhaps I am that person to others.
Mind you, there are about three papers that I ought to be writing right now, but since every time I open a document to write them I end up distracted by a passing butterfly, developing a very sudden case of ADD (I wonder what [insert name] is up to? I could use a muffin. Boy, that taco didn't agree with my gut. I wonder how often that new webcomic updates, it really is very good. I should try a comic, though not a webcomic, I'd never keep up with it... astonishing how many things not involving research run through your mind with the papers out in front of you) I figured I might as well do something remotely productive. Even if that something is just typing nothing in particular.
Well, whatever. Doesn't matter all that much, still getting the hang of... how shall I say this... surviving college. I mean, it's great, there's a wide open and beautiful campus, compotent doctors and nurses on staff, interesting classes... but perhaps I'm still having difficulty with time management and my ability to concentrate. Oh, and sleep. Gotta get some of that, too. And things are getting lumped into 'important' and 'not important' and 'important but without a concrete timeline' and those last two just get shoved aside. Even some of the first one gets shoved aside, and I have no idea how that happened.
Well, if I do decide to publish this at any point, I should probably note at the beginning that this post in particular has no real purpose. If you enjoy hearing the metaphorical melodious sound of my voice, I congratulate you on reading this far, or if you are just that damn curious or have a crapload of free time, or are also procrastinating an important paper that you need written. I am honored to be your source of leisure reading, despite being able to suggest several more interesting and accomplished authors with which you could waste your afternoon (or evening, or morning, or hole in the time-space continuum)
It is a miraculous thing, I'll admit... despite having accomplished absolutely nothing in the last 40 minutes I do feel somehow productive. Maybe it is simply the act of placing words on paper (or plasma, as the case may be) that causes one to feel active. It's like a drug, even. I mean, Emily Dickenson never wanted anyone to read her stuff, and now it's mandatory material in high-school English. She was just talking to herself a lot too. I bet nowadays she would just have a blog.
Ah well, better wrap this up. I got class in another 45 minutes and a powerful need to locate a savepoint (that's a "No More Heroes" joke, for those who don't know). Might just continue writing after I get back, maybe even say something important...
nah.
But I think I will post this. Not because it has any literary merit to it whatsoever, but rather because if anyone really does feel like reading it, they can. There are people who's every meaningless word I would follow if they were to share, so why deprive others of that same chance. I feel I should put a warning label at the top, however... maybe "Warning: Author has a Propensity for Large Words," or "Beware: Pointless," maybe even "Cuidado: Mente Mojado." Yes, I know that's not the proper word endings, but I wanted to work my joke, foreign grammar be damned.
Ah well. If someone read this far and feels I've robbed them of five minutes of their life, quite frankly they can kiss my ass. It's the internet, for god's sake, if you didn't want to risk wasting your time you shouldn't have spent it reading blogs. I'll try to be more productive in future, or at least construct better warnings that "This post is just me rambling about nothing, and contains limited smarm or humor; if you don't want to read me rambling about nothing, this post is not for you."
...actually, that's pretty good. I might use that. Alright, that's the sound of me needing to get to class. As for you, go do something productive. Like FarmVille, or Tetris.
