Procrastination is...

Yes I am meant to be preparing for a tutorial presentation on Chekhovian Drama and yes I am writing a blog about doing so instead.

The floor is currently covered in every single Year 12 SAC and practise essay I have ever done except the one that I am looking for. If Melbourne University think I am going to have new thoughts on Chekhov's Three Sisters, they've got another thing coming. I did not spend countless hours of my life in Year 12 thinking about Chekhov for nothing! And now it appears I did, for I cannot find this friggen' essay.

I have also lined up my highlighters just in case I need them. They are in rainbow order for easy access. A cup of coffee sits next to them, and next to that is a dictionary and a thesaurus I just grabbed, just in case I come across a word I don't know the meaning of... in my own thoughts. I am also listening to Fleetwood Mac. Puts me in the mood to think.

Today I caught the train to Monash to see if my books had been sold. I caught the Pakenham train to Caulfield, and my goodness, it was packed. I almost had a panic attack because some random's ass was touching my thigh (he was a short random), and my boob was touching his back. It was a disgustingly intimate train trip. To make matters worse, the filthy kids from Melbourne High might be intelligent enough to get into this elite school, but obviously don't possess basic common sense. When it is forcast for 30 degrees in Melbourne, you put deoderant on, especially if you are to board a packed train.

After a horrid trip, I made it to Monash Clayton, which was still as feral as I remembered it. Stupid Monash won't let me connect to the wireless network either anymore. I felt so rejected. But, I did make it onto the packed 5:15 shuttle home. I think a few people may have missed out on seats... muahahha. The quality of this super-convenient bus has dropped, which makes me feel mildly better about changing because I do miss that bus. Metaphorically. Not literally.