Prolifico

An Eschewal of Responsibility | March 1, 2006

I’m currently hiding from Microsoft Word and Microsoft Excel 2004, pleaaase don’t tell them where I am.

I’ve determined that I average about 1.6 worst days ever per semester. I mean they’re inevitable that shit just happens. Most of the time these worst days are directly related to school, usually in some strange way my feelings get hurt. Even though they’re inevitable, they’re still unpredictable. A worst day ever ends up with my begging myself to let me to go to sleep while blinking away tears, trying to forget the world, hoping I don’t wake up. If we’re here for 13 weeks (91 days) each semester, 1.6 worst days ever isn’t that bad. Realmente I’d say that’s well above average. I’m knocking on wood throughout this entire post. Since 1.6 is pretty damn infrequent I can still drag myself out to every class. Every 8 AM, every mediocre test score. As long as academics are good, and the humans that I care about are alive, life is good, since I do not have drama with objects living or otherwise outside of my body. It’s all internal. It’s so easy to maintain internal drama.

At a level above worst days ever, I’d say I have maybe 8-10 bad days a semester. My definition of a bad day isn’t really complete yet, but it goes something like my bad luck is eternal sorrow-woe is me-how could I have done that-don’t talk to me I’ll stab you. Can’t really articulate it very well. Sometimes they’re manifested by malicious attempts of others to initiate Prolificus-drama, which is illegal, so that’s pretty rare in itself. But they seem to be increasing in frequency as I becoming less and less satisfied with this major and my cologne.

Tomorrow I am going to have an it’s your own fault day you [insert word commenting on intelligence and upbringing], due to this obscene and parlous procrastination. However, since my bad day + worst day ever to number of days in college ratio is 1:9, there’s a damn good chance that come bedtime tomorrow, I’ll still be able to smile.

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