Procrastinating at its best

This is not good. This is not good at all. I am in the throes of full blown inescapable senioritis. All the symptoms are there. Constant griping about school. Surfing the internet in class. Procrastinating homework until literally hours before its due. When I got my syllabi at the beginning of the semester I caught myself examining them and calculating what I could flub and biff, and still get by with a moderately acceptable grade. If I were performing triage on me, I'd bag and tag myself and move on to less helpless cases.

At this very moment I have a reading response and a 4-6 page paper due tomorrow, neither of which I've started, or have done any of the reading for. Instead I've reviewed a couple short stories, I've religiously checked my inbox, run seven miles for marathon training, done some laundry, made a playlist, and visited my library where I picked up 3 new movies and a couple comics to read and watch and continue procrastinating. Now to go for broke, I'm packing up writing stuff and heading out to the local Biggby for a writing group my friend Duke wrangled, and is asking me to spearhead because of my knowledge of writing workshops from my undergrad. I also wrote a song. First one in a while. It's not finished yet. Maybe I'll work on it tonight.

For being a lazy procrastinator, though, things have been all sorts of insane hectic, which have kept me from doing a proper update for a couple weeks.

First and foremost is the less than wonderful death of my Jeep, Kate. It was a good morning last Tuesday I was making tracks down to Ann Arbor. Smoking my pipe. Stomach full and happy from a breakfast at Sip n Snack. Figuring that it was going to be a good day. Then, about 10 miles outside Ann Arbor she starts to rattle and shake and then dies. I got towed all the way back to Okemos where the guy at the shop took one look at it, said, "yep, it's dead," and have been splitting drive time with my dad's car. More than anything else it's left me angry with this perception of my inability to really care for myself right now. I can't even afford to buy a car on top of other bothersome expenses. Its making my entire move home, which was supposed to save me money, sanity, and allow me a base of cash for when I move to wherever after graduation. That's been shot so hard in the foot that it riccocheted back and hit it in the head.

I had a great rejection letter from a magazine where I actually caused a little bit of conflict between editors, and made a couple of them feel self conscious and pass on my short story. A bummer, yes, but it made me laugh so that was ok. Here's the best part:

"I'm very sorry to say that this story did not pass the review of the entire editorial board.

But I would like to emphasize that I particularly liked this story and the writing. The other editors didn't care for the "dude-based fiction", which seemed hypocritical to me since they are themselves dudes."

And on that note it's time to get my schlock together and go procrastinate further by writing fiction and enjoying myself. 71 Days, 42 Minutes and 5 seconds to go.