Why is this so hard to write. I’m a writer. I write. This is a thing to be written. But I can’t write it. Why.
And now, a by no means comprehensive list of everything I’ve done rather than write my theatre history term paper:
- Drank coffee to be awake for writing then fell asleep
- Other sleep things
- Curated playlists
- Laid down a track in Garageband
- Memorized the lyrics to Santa Tell Me, which is clearly the holiday hit of the season.
- Deactivated Facebook
- Reactivated Facebook to ask for help
- Watched Dancing with the Stars with my mom
- Got my mom hooked on Scandal
- Took a break from the two paragraphs I’d slaved over to go buy pants at JCP on Thanksgiving
- Looked up books that could help me if the library wasn’t closed
- Tried to convince my mom that she cannot help me write this. It’s not like I’m making a paper-mache volcano, Mom.
- Watched balloons be useless while people screamed at them on TV
- Experienced my umpteenth Nick Jonas-induced sexual awakening
- Taught myself some more piano
- Ran away to a forest to soak in the fall trees and sun
- Cried along with Selena Gomez
- Snapchat. Just. A lot of Snapchat.
- BUT THE BUZZFEED, THOUGH. SO MUCH BUZZFEED.
- This blog post.
If I don’t graduate and end up homeless, you now know why.