And I'm not on Ritalin 'cause I never got around to asking for it

I'm doing that thing again. That thing where I sit down to write a paper (in this case, a freakin' FIVE PAGE critical essay for my "Reading the Shape of Change" class) and I Just. Cannot. Sit. Still. I'm all over the internets, reading boring things I don't care have a whit about. I'm off to the grocery store, in the hopes they have something blueberry flavoured and fizzy. I'm scratching my nose. Anything not to write an essay about a book I freaking loved (Jim Grimsley's Dream Boy) and a topic that fascinates me (the nature of desire). Five pages, people! This is nothing! Except I've apparently stumbled into the section of my brian still trapped in Mr. Bridges 7th grade English, sulking its little heart out.

Grr.

Fizzy and blueberrry.