Learning Not To Be A Tudor

I would say that this is possibly the most extreme form of procrastination that I have so far partaken in. Although, the washing all the dishes in the kitchen thing would probably make the top ten list. And the visiting of the nearby cocktail bar, to drink custom cocktails. tailored made to our own precise specifications (umm... something sweet, and uhh, pineappley?) would be pretty high up too. The procrastination is mainly to do with the revision that is glaring at me from the other side of the room. Ruled paper with incoherent felt tip scribblings scowl in the corner, and the scrunched post-its with illegible, completely unintelligible scrawls plot silently. Books I have not - and most likely will not- read continue to mock me with their cheap lime green Penguin covers ("Not only did you only spend two pounds on us, you miserly rascal, you won't even attempt to read the wonders that lurk inside our garish pages. You are obviously too thick. Run, run away and join the circus. You are both stingy AND stupid. Well done to you."). Of course, I have done some revision, let me tell you. I am not about to let myself down with false bravado, and whatnot, when really I have read something. For example, I reread a tiny Kant extract whilst revising in the cocktail bar (the dashing good looks of the bartender, by the way, were most certainly the cause of us returning home at eleven not just a little bit drunk), and earlier that day, I had read the Preface to the First Dictionary. Now, I would like to inform you - as I have informed all my housemates - that the only thing more boring than actually reading the dictionary is reading the preface to it. This is most certainly a True Story. Try it. I dares you.

It is now just an hour until my final Shock of the New seminar, with the delightful Tim Kendall, Wart Nose, Joe's Friend, Annoying-Girl-Who-Steals-Other-People's-Points-And-Then-Pretends-They-Are-Her-Own, David But You Can Call Me Dave, Angry Kelvin, Bagpuss, Silent Alex (female) and Silent Alex (male). Each of them displays their own unique skills, which involve either being loud and obnoxious, or quiet and invisible. Not so much unique, I suppose. We will sadly, this week, be discussing the forthcoming exams, which is a topic I am neither keen on nor able to escape. This is mainly my fault, due to my obsession with asking people, "OMG, how mmuch revis have you done, I've like totally done none, and I am well freakin' out!". This is how I speak, by the way. It's good, isn't it. Makes me sound super intelligent.

Combined with this going to seminar malarky, I must also pick up some essays that I do not, as such, want to pick up. I am pretty sure that I have done very badly and may be kicked out of uni, be forced to work in Tesco, and live with only cats. This is possibly an outcome I would be keen to avoid, mainly because I like the expensive prison house I live in, and so you would think that I would do much work in an attempt to stay put, but this is not so. Even as I was writing the aforementioned essays, I could feel the drivel in my brain seeping through my fingertips into the keyboard and magically appear on the screen in front of me. The waffly nonsense I was writing was shocking, and yet, I could not stop it, as if I was possessed. Or simply stupid. Of course, I would have just re-edited it to make some sort of coherent sense, but where's the fun in that? The essays remained horrific, and I handed them in. Possibly a misktake.

I am not, as such, dressed, but am instead cross-legged in my underwear infested room, on my psychedelic duvet cover, wearing a proper "I support Kazakhstan" tshirt in a dashing shade of aqua-marine. Of course, this is written in Kazak, so I may have got the translation wrong, but as far as I'm aware, it is their national anthem emblazoned across my back. I hope. I am procrastinating again, but this time in deciding what to wear out. Is it hot? Is it cold? Shall I wear a summer dress and biker boots anyway, and let the weather go to hell? Perhaps I shouldn't go, that way my getting dressed problem is entirely solved, as I just won't. I think this is the best plan. In fact, I may just go to sleep.