I’m sitting in the library reading over an essay that’s due next hour. It looks exactly like an essay that was finished at two in the morning, which is what it is. It starts off decently enough (which was the 9 p.m. range) and progressively spirals downward into the realm of repulsive. At that point, it was 1:56 a.m. and I’d been listening to Backstreet Boys on a loop for forty-five minutes. (It was in my iTunes library! I got curious! I rediscovered the magic of my 90’s childhood!) Seriously. It’s one of those papers you’re ashamed to put your name on. We’ll see how this goes over with my teacher.
GAH. So, there I was, trying to “manage my blog,” which is a loose interpretation of what I was actually doing… clicking all the wrong things while trying to delete a post that didn’t make any sense. Somehow I wound up deleting three posts, none of which were the post I originally intended to delete. I feel like my technology-impaired grandmother who tries to post things on people’s walls and instead makes them her status, so we all get to see this: “Sarah hon i dont know how to tell u this, but ur profile picture makes u look like a cabaret dancer.”