That's All

I cannot, for the life of me, concentrate on my work. I had good intentions to be productive this morning. And I did start the day with some semblance of productivity. I took a shower, I washed dishes, I packed my lunch, I put away my dry-cleaned clothes and comforter, and I made room in the bookshelf for some books that I had left in school last year. After a pleasant detour in the form of a conversation with my sister, I walked to the "office" and risked hypothermia. I parked in my little office space, wrote my objectives for today, and then started to work. And I did a little work. After which, I am here. Unable to work. Unless you call checking out Perez's site, which a classmate of mine used to frequent during my bankruptcy law class, work.

And that's really not work. Not even I would argue that it is work. The point is that I haven't been doing work. And I haven't been having fun. Instead, I have been bemoaning the fact that I can't work, while not even trying to work. And that leaves me here, in this wretched place, where I am royally annoyed with the one person I can't leave behind and where the work remains and will remain until I finally get to do it maybe tomorrow.

Oh, save me, Prince Charming. But please introduce yourself first.

I can't even blog properly because I am getting annoyed with all the situations that derive from this inability to work - from why I have to do this work to why the books have to be too heavy to haul home to why it's so cold outside to why I haven't really thought about my novel, which I should really start doing if I want to build a mansion by the time I am thirty, to why I assign myself work to begin with, and the cycle repeats itself in my head. It's got me going in circles. And I say that not in the sad and mellow voice of Luther Vandross but in the wails of Sisa of Noli Me Tangere.

This is ridiculous. Okay, deep breath. There, that's better. I knew writing about not working would make me want to work. Well, not want to work but just work. And that's because, confronted with my own silliness, I can hop above the circumstances and soar for a while, only to land in the sordid cushions of Perez's site (my guilty pleasure) or BBC or CNN, whichever strikes my fancy.

Yeah, you read right. CNN and BBC and Perez - they're all part of the same family. No offense to Perez, says this law student. The news has been especially interesting recently, for some reason. Have loads and loads to say about some of the stuff going around, especially the whole Big Brother racism row. But now is not the time. Watch me transform into Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." And hear me say "That's all."

And that is all.