Email professor and give lame excuse as to why I am not in class today. Write poem that was supposed to be due. End up unhappy with result.
Email internship faculty supervisor and catch her up on 4 weeks of what I’ve been doing at my internship, emails which should have been sent each week.
Sit alone in room.
Scan stupid handwritten notes and/or stupid random shit that I’ve found and think is mildly funny.
Spend a minimum of fifteen minutes dreaming of living alone.
Spend a minimum of ten minutes dreaming of driving across country alone.
Spend a minimum of five minutes writing retarded fucking blog post, pitying self.
Realize I’ve been making unconscious efforts to isolate self from surroundings and others over the past two years.
Further realize that said isolation does not make me creative, smarter, more interesting, or more philosophically deep and that attempts to isolate self in order to be creative would largely be a waste of time, because it follows that any output will be equally as uninteresting, stupid, and self-serving.
Check Tumblr, Twitter, Gmail, Flickr, and Facebook a minimum of five times each, none of which will be updated. Check anyway.
After forty-five minutes of doing useless shit while sitting at desk, shirk all responsibility and play X-Box instead.
After two hours, feel like a total dickhead, then try to bandage self-depricating feelings by pretending not to care and assuring self that not caring makes me cooler (when in fact it does not).
To-Do
The First Day of The Month:
I’ll get started in a second, I swear.