Procrastination

I'm the world's worst (or best, depending on your point of view) procrastinator.

I have set aside my clothes for the Birthright part of my Israel trip. Mostly. Except for the laundry that I still have to do. And they're not in the bag yet. Just staring at me from the laundry basket.

My house is a mess. I've been moving stuff out of my room, and just kind of tossing them into the dining room. I've completely taken over the dining room table with "stuff". New roommate hates me, I think. Oh, and I don't have a 3rd roommate for the fall semester yet.

I have no idea what clothes I'm taking for Haifa. I'm considering just wearing the same Birthright t-shirts, shorts, and socks for the entire trip. It would making packing lots easier. Plus, I can't take my skinny clothes, cause I'm not sure how my body is going to react to Israel.

Right now, I'm sitting in the library at GSU trying to update a dataset I did for JDuff in '05. Someday it wants to be a journal article. I'm the kind of girl that needs pressure in order to accomplish things. JDuff is waaaay too laid back for this. He sent me an article to read on May 3, and I haven't heard from him since. It's printed. It's in my bag. It wants to be read. But I have to find the paper that Cyndi and I wrote for him last summer, and read the two of them together, so you see the problem. Where is the paper that Cyndi and I wrote for him last summer...yeah?

So, instead of accomplishing the above list of stuff to do...I've schlepped (for you Mel) myself along with my laptop and Screen on the Green whatnot* to campus. To realize that the only reason I ever needed the books in the lib in '05 was because I was using pre-1990 info. I'm just updating the last 3 years. That's all online. Complete waste of trip and day. It's like 85/90 degrees outside and I'm wearing my new cute Target clothes. I don't need this.

Funny story about my new Target pants. I got stuck in them this morning. I don't know why Target doesn't use YKK zippers. I mean, seriously. Luckily, my pants are linen, or cotton, or something, and my hips are bigger than my waist. So I was able to wriggle out of them. Was able to make zipper work again. Put the pants back on. Am waiting for disaster to strike. Why did I put them back on?

In other news, my friend (and I use that term hesitantly, since the last time I saw him he seriously traumatized/terrified an 8-10 year old girl) Sam wrote me an email the other day that really has been messing with my mind. Basically, we should all inspire to the life of a sock. Wait for it. Socks have very little in terms of concerns, they don't complain. The only thing they care about is if their mate is somewhere nearby. Which is really all any of us ever care about. It all goes well for them until they wind up being the little sock in the bottom of the dryer with no match. Two thoughts:
#1: omg, I'm the little sock at the bottom of the dryer with no match.
#2: Since I really don't care about "fashion" and whatnot (I know you're surprised), I just buy a package of black socks, or a bunch of pairs of socks that match. This way, I don't have to pay that much attention and all my socks have a bunch of mates. My socks are dirty, polygamous sluts.

So, yeah, I guess I'll go back to updating my dataset now. If anyone is interested in how much energy has been produced or consumed by OECD countries since 1965, I'm your gal.

(*Apparently we're sitting with the Turner people at Screen on the Green tonight. They have a ¨special" area.

However, since we'll be with his work people, I can't act inappropriately. If you've ever watched a movie with me, you know that I...can't...behave...myself. There are two real issues. First, the constant, ridiculous, sarcastic, stupid commentary. I almost can't control it. It just comes out of my mouth. Plus, I find humor in awkward or supposedly-moving situations, so I laugh at inappropriate intervals, and at completely inappropriate times. I'm always very aware that movies aren't real, and that someone actually got paid to write this crap, and that I'm supposed to forget it's a movie, or something, my brain doesn't work like that. Luckily, tonight is a comedy.

Second, I have no respect for personal space while watching a movie. I don't care. Movies = cuddly time. And YES this does get me into all kinds of trouble. If we're surrounded by work people, how much cuddling can I get in? Unless....I randomly cuddle other nearby people. Then the work people won't say "oh, look at the pda, awful, just awful, I'll judge him at work tomorrow", but "oh that girl's quite the snuggle whore, it's nice of him to put up with her, I respect him more as a co-worker".)