It's unusually quiet on the internet today. Except for Monica asking if I was still alive or not and a few spammers, it's been weirdly quiet. All quiet on the ASC front, the message boards aren't updating, the bloggers are taking a break, the mailing lists are quiet, no new fic from either Trek or the X-Files... people, you are so not contributing to the procrastination front!
Which is probably a good thing. I've been an unusually productive bunny today, having finished reading my marketing text book two days ahead of schedule (whee!) and then, typing up all the answers to the questions at the back of each chapter and sending those off to my hapless classmates. Then I read through my handwritten notes for that class - I have over 50 pages and amazingly, pink ink does not read well. I'm working my way through stats right now, having read the chapter in question (do not understand it, I don't, but ah well).
I haven't "exploited Ecuadorians" today (as Bjorn puts it), but just wait - Sunday morning. But I did make a run to Target to pick up some calamine lotion - y'all might laugh, but fire ants are not fun when they've decided that you are the best meal in town. Flattering, yes, but not fun. Never, ever underestimate calamine - it's a beautiful thing.
Also went to the school bookstore to pick up scantrons and blue books - this is the latest scam the university has come up with: we have to provide our own scantrons and blue books. Karen provided scantrons for the last two stats exams, and so I've got the next two. Plus the blue book, for the marketing exam. Total bill? $1.19.
I did a little bit of work on some writing, but nothing too strenuous. The angst bunny refuses, absolutely refuses to come out and play. Last year, I was incredibly prolific, able to write anything at a drop of a hat. This year, it's less easy, more hard to do. It's not writer's block, so to speak, but it is something. I read through what I've written and I cringe in embarassment. There is some hideous stuff on my hard drive. It scares me. Scares, scares, scares me. Yes, I'm one of those people who automatically hates her own writing no matter what it is. To prove it, I usually forget the plots of the story within days of posting - Liz has been kind enough to summarize a few of the longer ones for me because I cringe at having to reread.
Go ahead, call me weak. So I couldn't answer that question on zendom on whether I like/hate my writing. I don't like it and I can't really think of anything good to say about any of it. But it's not a pity party - it's more of a critical eye, a tending towards perfection (I'm the type who actually erases huge chunks of homework if the numbers don't line up exactly). That and a huge case of incurable insecurity about which I have whinged to the Mod Squad about most recently.
So, procrastinating. But back to stats because I just got a brainstorm and I don't want to lose it. But really, people, you're awfully quiet today. Which means that I probably need to find something to do other than homework.