The personal blog of Robert Hardy:
Filmmaker, Musician, Writer
By Robert Hardy: College Student / Procrastinator Extraordinaire
I’ve got two hours before class starts and I’ve got this damn seven-page research paper to write! Holy Shit! Where did all the time go? I’ve got to hussle. GO! GO! GO!
How did this happen to me of all people? Could it have something to do with the fact that I find the most ridiculous ways to put off doing my homework? No, couldn’t be. Could it have something to do with the fact that I’d be willing to do just about anything (and I mean anything…) just to push the limits of my time to the very last minute. Hell no. That’s crazy talk.
I mean, just last Tuesday I walked with my friend over to 7/11 with the intention of buying a ton of energy drinks so that I could stay up all night and be super productive (awesome idea, right?) But along the way, we saw a wicker table out on someone’s lawn, and what can I say, it looked like it needed a new home. So what do my friend and I do? We steal it of course, and haul it across campus at two in the morning, making sure that we aren’t spotted by Campus Safety (no easy task seeing as those assholes are everywhere).
But wait, there’s more! This is only part one of my two part wicker table story. When we get the damn thing into the dorm and look at it under proper light (because streetlights make everything look glamorous, like hookers… wait, shit, disregard that) the thing is absolutely the most detestable piece of furniture that we’ve ever seen. But instead of just leaving it somewhere and letting it become someone else’s problem, we decide that we’re going to going to turn it into a piece of post-modern art. Makes sense, right? So forty five minutes later, there we are with a shitty wicker table that is wearing a moustache and several bandaids, while being covered in duct tape and an empty roll of quarters, and it’s surrounded by sticky notes that all say “Post-Modern Art, Please Do Not Touch” and “The Wicker Man.” Way to go, Rob. Way to go…
I mean, there was really nothing better to be doing with my time, well, besides that seven-page research paper. Oh shit! That reminds me, I still have to write that damn thing!
I even had all damn weekend to write it. Where did the time go? Oh yeah, I remember. I squandered it away doing stupid, pointless shit! Come on, Rob! Get your act together, asshole.
Oh man, is my hair looking a little bit ratty? I think it is! This will never do. I’ll be back in an hour. I’m going to get a haircut……………………………………………………………
That bitch! She shaved a line into my sideburns. I just can’t keep this beard now, otherwise I’d look stupid, right? I might as well go shave, take a forty-minute shower, get my nails done (even though it’s not a guy thing to do, it couldn’t hurt), clean my room, write a beautiful love-song for the girlfriend that I might one day have, build a battle-bot, write an opinion piece for the Onion…
Dammit! Why am I writing an Opinion piece for the Onion!?! Who let me get this damn side-tracked? Couldn’t be my fault, could it? Nah, no way.
Now what was it that I was supposed to be doing? Did I get a haircut already? Build a battle-bot? Love-song for future girlfriend? Check, check, and check! Now that’s what I call a productive morning.
Oh shit! I have twenty minutes until class and I still haven’t started my research paper! Eh, oh well. Guess I’ll just be sick today…