Tell that it sucks?

To be drunk? To be in love? To have a lot of things to do the next day? And have little energy?

It’s this weather – and her – that’s killinf (excuse the alcohol for the typo) me. But she’ll never and ever and never and ever and so on know this.


Failing to reach the expectations is neither sad nor important.  What is bad is the realization that not much has changed in your life when you wake up the next morning, after you have reached your expectations.

How pathetic.


One of my instructors was abroad for two weeks (that was a month ago) and we had make up courses for three weeks. Three more hours for the course, every week. Sleeping a total of ten hours in three days, trying to read 200 pages (a week) of contemporary philosophy for a single course.  I am not complaining, pushing your limits is a good way to see what you can actually do if you have to.

I have also been making up for the non-consumed alcohol and cigarettes.  For some reason, I am very much into alcohol abuse, ah, and also cigarette abuse if there is such a thing. There are quite a lot of things I abuse actually. Maybe, not abuse but things that I exceed my limits.

And this post is written just to mark this day, for those who understand what I actually mean here.


Procrastination Loop

A friend of mine has sent this to me, and I was like “oh my god, this is me!” Well, procrastinators look alike.


Overflow

And they say machines cannot really have emotions. Bullshit!

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Sometimes I feel doomed because weird things happen to me and not other people.

The other day, I bought a couple of albums from my fave music store. I went back home to find that one of the CDs in a double-CD album is missing. What are the chances of this to happen?

What’s more… A couple of years ago, I bought a Queen album.  I unsealed it, and saw a CD writing Blue on it. Well, I didn’t know the boyband Blue then, and both the album cover and CD was black. So I didn’t really doubt. I put the CD in the player, and OMGWTFBBQ?

I got both albums replaced… But you know, why me?


This uncertainity is killing me, and that’s it.


I don’t procrastinate. It is my way of being – my essence.  I have written on this earlier – in Turkish.  Just wanted to list my favorite procrastinating pass-time activities here, especially at times when I am writing a paper or something:

  • Check mails often (Yes, the response is ‘define often!’ Twice every minute, or 3 times every 10 minutes… It depends, really. Long live Gmail Manager)
  • Check mails even more (self-explanatory)
  • Write walls-of-text mails to people – the content does not really matter and it doesn’t have to be specific to that person the mail is written to.  What matters is the activity of writing the mail (certain conditions apply)
  • Look for new music scattered in 4 drives and hundreds of different directories (tends to happen when I am too lazy to listen to a whole album. Great pass-time it is to find the right music to listen to)
  • Worrying about deadlines (Not really. If i really worried about them, I wouldn’t leave them to the very last second, would I? But saying “oh my god, enough of this crap” might be one)
  • Open my instant messaging software to see who is online although I know I won’t be talking to anyone
  • Check server and site statistics, recent visitors, referrers, and so on. Ah, and cleaning the spam comments (2011 and counting, as of now)
  • Check WordPress admin panel to see if there are new version of the plugins I’m using (Not that I’m going to update them to the latest version right away)
  • Click on certain bookmarks on Firefox Bookmark Bar (Netvibes, last.fm, and Facebook. The problem is I tend to click on the next one before even waiting for one page to load. This does not apply to Netvibes)
  • Write posts like this one on this blog, and many more.

I click on “Check mail now” button once again and publish this post.


I was on my way home, late at night, around 2 AM-ish. Father asked if I felt the earthquake that recently happened. I didn’t because I was mobile then. There have been a couple of minor earthquakes near where I live.

Earthquakes make people excited, nervous, anxious, whatever. What I need is a meteor about to hit the earth in a month or so. That could make me really excited, in every sense of the word.

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In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

If I remember correct, it was last year, during American Poetry II class, when we read T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Our reading of this poem was different then. But, how true it is when you look at these lines alone – same imagery but different articulation. The women come whenever they want, and leave when they (are) please(d).

Please don’t.


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