Tom is with his auntie and the library closes in 90 minutes. I have to make myself write this essay tonight. I am really sick of applying thories to fiction though - all I want to do is read it and write it. I have so many ideas for new stories in my mind at the moment but I feel like I can’t execute them until I have removed the blockage of this essay.
So, here I am, writing on my blog.
There are some really bizarre and specific journals here in the library. The other day I came across The International Journal of Death Studies. Just now I saw a copy of The Diabetic Foot Journal on the desk next to me. Leafing through it and looking at the weeping ulcers and gaping craters in people’s feet is far preferable to writing about postmodernism. I was going to put a picture up but I had a quick search on Google Images and they’re all too horrific for this blog.
My friend is waiting for me with a bottle of wine to celebrate my completed essay. I have to make myself do it. I wonder if there is a journal on Pathological Procrastination.
