(a man sits in a darkened room on an old wooden chair, for no obvious reason. He wears formal clothes but they’re dirty with bits of food and disgusting wet blotches. He looks like he just got out of a knife-fight with Cee Lo Green, but he’s smiling at the camera)
Front-man: (warmly) Hi. I’m Thomas Caulfield. (stands) Have you ever felt the need to procrastinate? (walks slowly towards the camera) I have. Many, many times. And the key is to give in. Always. If you have trouble being an irresponsible person, call 1-800-PROCRASTINATION-OR-DIE. We’ll help you- (runs into camera).
That’s a play I’m writing, called Growing Up Brainless. Just kidding. I’ve just felt the need to write a post lately (Erin’s helped me with that, clearly- she posted this morning so we don’t flounder) and I’ve been working on one, the
(So just me adding in real quick:
Today, as a last day of school, was awesome. For me, anyway. I had a lot of little fun things that happened:
I danced on a table. Briefly, until the lunch monitor stopped me. I also called a book company with my friends in french class (long story). The best part of the day (actually, I have a real favourite part, but that’s MY memory now. Not you.) was English Class. I usually look forward to it, but today was awesome. Benji logged onto QUAKE 3. YES.
I mentioned Quake in my last post, briefly. It’s a shooting game that one of my friends downloaded onto the school computer. It’s fast, it’s fun, it’s a male dominated game that I own at…so I’m pretty much addicted to it.
And Benji just logged onto Quake in English class. In front of everyone.
AND THEN MY ENGLISH TEACHER PLAYED.
It was incredible. He said ‘This is just like college.’ And then he proceeded to blast the shit out of EVERYONE. He owned. He slaughtered. We cheered him on as if he was wrestling a 500lb man.
I was stunned.
I was impressed.
I was horrified.
I was ready to get down and bow to him.
He said: We need a girl up here now. So I played. I lost because another girl had gotten up there before me and died a few times before I took over. And although I was happy with how I played…it was nothing compared to my english teacher.
Frankly, I came to school because he promised to play Taylor Swift on his guitar. This was possibly better.
Back to Tom. Sorry. I just had to say that. )
I’ve been writing what happened at our county’s Relay for Life, which was 40% chaos, 40% fun, and 20% creepy.
But it’s hard recounting things, especially as they go stale in your mind. So I’ve been procrastinating, which may be one of my favourite words; Erin’s too. Not for its five syllables, no- if we wanted syllables, we’d go with something that packed more heat. Not for the way it rolls off the tongue, because nothing rolls off the tongue unless it’s food, and sloppily eaten food, at that. But because we consider it-
YES, AN ART.
Everything’s an art. Spitting for distance is an art. But procrastination is an art. It’s worthy of being reviewed and puzzled over by professional aesthetes.
Erin and I are very good at it. We’re good to the point where we procrastinate responsibly- hell, our grades are top of the bell-curve and we’re generally smart kids. But there are times and places to procrastinate, and we’ve learned our boundaries from experience. For example, try not to procrastinate on something that has to be typed up for a class. You can’t rely on doing it in the media center at lunch, because sometimes adminstrators don’t accept your pass and you get a failing grade on the paper because you have none. Even if you do get to the library, who says you’ll finish on time? It’s not a done deal (you could always show up way tardy, but that’s a sacrifice, and the point of procrastination is to avoid sacrifices).
So we’re weathered procrastinators. I’m going to write up a list of maxims for procrastinators, but- not now. *sheepish grin*
Now, tying this in to the Relay post- it’s Summer. It’s Summer. I can finally sleep in and walk around in boxers, and take walks in boxers, and wash cars in-
No, I put clothes on. But that’s the extent of my Summer efforts. To any critics (codeword for “haters”), piss off!
I plan on having many adventures – clean-cut, hygenic and fresh-smelling, clothes-wearing, laugh-having adventures – with my Dearest this Summer. I do put clothes on and everything, be sure.
And being Summer, procrastination is my dominating instinct – at least, in all things that I deem “not all that fun” or “as tedious as… uh…”
And so, the Relay post can wait. I hope it turns out at least half-decent, when I get around to shoving some words into it and calling it a post. :)
aestheism not atheism.