Someone Make Me Do My Work

I think it is safe to say that every time I read this blog I will never cease to frighten myself. I honestly don't even know why I still have it. It's like every post is only trying to out-stupid the previous one. That is not to say that this one will be any less stupid because clearly I've proven that I am incapable of writing anything that won't cause me to cringe in about 15 minutes after posting it.

I think I write in this blog every time I have to avoid thinking about something. Right now, I am avoiding writing my two finals that are both due tomorrow. I feel so mentally checked-out right now that there is no way I can write about Transnational Hispaniola and African Literature. Actually, I don't think I can write about those topics mainly due to the fact that I have read basically none of the books. It's not like I don't like them, it's more the fact that my brain doesn't like to concentrate. Clearly I need to groooow up already. Most of the time these days I am too busy planning out a future that is probably never going to happen. It's weird because I always say I am not a planner and that I'd rather just go with the flow, but I do like to daydream. Like constantly. Wait. I feel like I misuse that word. I don't know if daydreams are just you imagining things that you wish would happen or if they are just letting your mind wander. Regardless, I do like to imagine what I want my world to be.

I don't know if this is supposed to be my personal journal or not. But I'm going with "not" because I am actually using capitals and punctuation and not courier new font (like the emo freak I am most days). That being the case, I guess I can still write about my dreams for the moment. All I want is to live away from home. And it's not to be stupid and to manifest my own destiny or anything like that, but I honestly think I need to be more independent. God so many clarifications. But who am I clarifying myself to? I know what I mean. I've done the whole "live at home and find yourself" sort of thing before and I will never forget how suffocating that can be (sorry I sound whiny). It's not that I don't love my family, because I do. I love being home and forgetting life outside of what I've always known. Oh shoot. I'm getting kind of sad and nostalgic. But that's a good thing, right? I mean being able to feel sad. I feel like I'm about to go on a tangent about feelings. Yeah I want to. Hold that thought.

Yeah feelings.

In case anyone is wondering, I think I have deleted about 50 sentences trying to figure out the right words to say. Talk about censorship! Maybe I'll write something in a few more years about what I think about them. My eyes hurt...when did I take my contacts out last? I don't even know.