The Fact Remains:

I procrastinate, hard. I do it even now as I write this blog. I did it last night, and this morning. It is my quintessence.

It started poorly, it should be said. I did not receive the book as soon as I had expected, or had hoped. I only had a week to read it, but I was in no hurry, I like Kirsten read it first, she likes that sort of book anyways. I could refer to her as a resource, if necessary, to discuss the book; I didn't expect to be able to find much in The Hivemind about it, despite my formidable search-fu. It only took 3 days to read, maybe four, I can't remember. It was easy, very plain spoken, though vague in distinctions between illicit substances, fits the target audience well enough. Certainly, such details should be spared for such an innocent audience (or innocent author)! Deseret Book has refused to stock novels for less than contained in this novel, and if it were not required for a class, I doubt the bookstore here would either, even though it was written by a faculty member.

In any case, it is quite late and I have yet to add any real substance, those things which were not the ramblings I pounded onto my cellphone's text pad as they were revealed to me, to the document I need to submit tomorrow morning. I tell myself that I would have gotten to it earlier if it were not Monday, the obligatory Family Home Evening charade to attend, but I know this to be a comforting lie.

Family Home Evening was different: the girls talked. I did not, I seldom to at introductions. My particular brand of humor (which I like to think of as parenthetical) is hopeless to the unfamiliar. We played awkward games, (i got 3rd place in "I never..") and made animal noises and small talk. I didn't say much, but my locus out of my control placed me in that inevitable role: know-it-all. Darn. I can't say I really mind; it certainly seems true, or truthy, at times. But I resent that I was cast so quickly by Mike in the role. Less than two hours in and I am the knower. An apologetic murmur was uttered by one when I confirmed an off-statement that perhaps we just sat around in Allen Ridge asking Derek questions. Do I mind that much? I never considered it a shame, any warrant of pity. They probed, and I proved for them, taught them how to expel a boy, to hyphenate a boy-friend without crushing him, though it may require it. But I saw they had a Super NES, N64, Xbox, PS2, with guitar hero, I think it'll be OK.

The screen hurts my eyes. I took a break earlier to close my eyes, try to relax my jaw, listened to the Aquabats; it was nice. Adam is still up. I am still up. I shouldn't be. We shouldn't be. It is unnatural.

I received a paper cut from a Career Skills-Interest survey. Foreshadowing? Perhaps I shall become an astronaut! Or an advice columnist. How does one go about that?

I still must decide how I shall write this paper. Perhaps it is best to simply begin. But I so don't want to...