The Overrated Nature of a Crusty Sore
Clearly, I have been fiddling with the look of this page.
Fiddling is probably the most specialised word that a moron non-techie person such as myself can safely use. You will probably log in occasionally to see that the text has become all jumbled and the colours are even worse than the canary yellow that currently assaults you, but fear not: it is simply neuro with a spanner and a filthy smudge on her cheek working on the main index and the style sheets of the site, like the common grease monkey that she is. I won't apologise though. neuroland is MY zone and here you will lie prostrate as I shout my opinions from lofty grandeur.
I often bore you all with tales of my trials while studying. Well clam up your ears boys, and slap some mud over those eyes, because here I go again. This shall have three parts: the imbalanced rant, the fear and the resignation. Watch out.
OH MY GOD I'M SO DEAD I HAVE SIX EXAMS THE FIRST IS IN THREE DAYS AND I KNOW NOTHING. I'm tense. And when I'm tense I'm shifty and suspicious.
Just look at my beady little eyes!
DISGUSTING.
But not as disgusting as the heaping great pile of revision about modernism and metaphysics and medieval literature and pope philosophy that I've got to shred, mix with turpentine and stuff into my facial cavaties to get it closer to my brain. I am prickling with stress. Believe me when I say I have procrastinated to new and dizzying heights this time. I have knitted myself a new pair of pyjamas, for goodness' sake! My postcounts on boards.ie and mikado have tripled in one week! We have twelve loaves of soda bread! There are too many exclamation marks here - how do I ever expect to get into the canon with this tripe?! My room has changed colour! My blog is ever-rupturing! I am always on the phone!
But oh how I quiver in my boots. I wish to insert sad little faces composed of colons and left brackets (to be found over the 9 on your keyboard) but I know that the blog monitors would disapprove. I believe a hearty WOE IS ME is in order. WHAT IF I FAIL, ANSWER ME THAT. Humiliation and so on. I'm not into that. That's not my bag. Well, not being on the receiving end, anyway. In a non-sexual way.
It is time to kill my personality and do some work. I shall knife myself in that spot between the two halves of the brain where they say the personality is stored. But not right now. Right now I fulfil my duties to the public. I write things. Goodly things of a virtuous nature. I know that there is a trip to the pub on the horizon tonight and that is what will KEEP ME GOING.
Alcohol - the fuel for life!!
neuro-praxis -- Chewing On The USB Cable And Finding Relief
Posted by neuro-praxis on January 7, 2005 08:44 PM, in the category Bifidus Digestivum
Don't do it Neuro. Don't join the Scientologists. What is 'scient' anyway, and where do they study it? Is it wrong of me to be kind of sorry that they're helping tsunami victims? Oh, the ambivalence!
tg
Posted by: teragram at January 7, 2005 09:45 PMFirstly, hilarious post, scrolled down, found eyes, fell around laughing. Secondly, thanks, I was falling into a depression over my apparently worse than ever talent for procrastination before I read this! Thridly, I know exactly what you mean, too much info, too little time left! Alas, if all else fails, cook some Birdseye Potatoe Waffles!
Posted by: Caoimhe at January 8, 2005 01:15 PMp.s - I say without a hint of sarcasm..........is that a picture of sperm you have up there??? Perhaps they're fairylights?? ;op
Posted by: Caoimhe at January 8, 2005 01:20 PMThanks, fellow procrastinator. Nope, it ain't sperm. They're neurons!
Posted by: neuro-praxis at January 8, 2005 02:15 PMah.....makes so much more sense, was never highly scientific!
Posted by: Caoimhe at January 8, 2005 04:35 PMFar too cool for words...............the eyes have it!
Posted by: Caoimhe at January 8, 2005 05:34 PMThose moving eyes will haunt me in my sleep. It's like on of those pictures whose eyes seem to follow you around the room, only in this case they quite literally do follow me, from side to side, as I dash frantically from one end of the room to another trying to escape their everlasting gaze. DON'T LOOK AT ME! DON'T LOOK AT ME!
Posted by: Anonymous at January 9, 2005 07:32 PM