because (un)luckily i write more intelligently than i speak

self-sabotage sometimes comes in the form of reading back posts of The Bloggess and Ask the Bloggess for five hours straight instead of studying French verbs in order to get massively overwhelmed tomorrow, which will result in not only an inability to get out of bed, but more importantly an inability to study said French verbs that will be on the test on Wednesday, thereby causing extreme panic which will require dropping the French class immediately and without proper foresight, precipitating a mixed rush of relief and guilt and resulting in a return to spending five hours a day reading The Bloggess and realizing that now not only have all future options been extinguished, but that there's nothing left to show for the wasted time except an intense realization that there are so many things i could be doing in the world that i'm just not brave enough for.

so yeah. at least i can write epic grammatically-correct virginia woolf sentences. if that's not a superpower i'm not prepared to know what one is. (and don't tell me that ending on a preposition is not correct grammar, because you are wrong. this is my blog and we do descriptive grammar here, not prescriptive. so there.) now i just have to figure out how to make that get me somewhere.

preferably somewhere where i can keep my head under the pillow and my brain glued to the internet, because, really, that's all i'm good for.