I FINISHED MY FUCKING PAPER.
Granted, it's technically an hour and twenty-three minutes behind my self-imposed deadline, but who really cares that it's technically a new day after 12 midnight, right?
Granted, also, that my paper is the worst supposed-to-do-well-for type paper that I've ever done in my life, EVER, and that I seriously had NO IDEA what the hell I was writing about; but when you're desperate and have a deadline to meet and are desperately trying to meet the said deadline, you'll honestly settle for anything, shit included.
Normally at about 12.30 a.m. I'd start watching my high-definition David videos and somehow I always end up watching EVERYTHING, in CHRONOLOGICAL order, before I sleep; but it's 1.28 a.m. and it's quite late, and I intend to wake up early later in the morning to see if Gizmo really works regarding the whole internet phone voting thing (seriously, David should hurry come to Singapore so that we can consummate our marriage). But then again I can always try at 12 noon when the people on the West Coast are voting, so maybe I will watch my David videos after all. I CAN'T SLEEP WITHOUT WATCHING THEM OMG.
Okay, I kid. I'm, in fact, actually quite sleepy now and I think I'm just going to bed after I post this.
I'm really freaking stoked that I FINISHED MY BLOODY PAPER, just like I said I would. Of course the quality is entirely questionable and I bet it doesn't even exist, but the material point is, I said I'd do it, and I did it. Bwahahaha! The amazing things desperation can do to a person.
I bet if I wasn't distracted by, inter alia, David, Tris's blog, Facebook, other friends' blogs, David, my brother doing stupid things to my poor Cow Cow (don't ask), my own blog, did I mention David?, I might have finished the paper muuuuch earlier, and might have been able to watch David before I sleep! In any case, I have concluded from my accomplishment of my Herculean feat of writing 5,587 words in less than two days that if I can do something like this, then David Cook can totally win Season 7 of American Idol.
Um, I'm not sure what the link is either, but I'm sleepy and high from finishing my paper so indulge me okay? Also, why does everything I say relate back to David?
On another note, I'm really slow, but I just discovered that the New Yorker is online. I practically foamed at the mouth when I was browsing through the fiction and poetry section (and quickly lost interest in the poetry section when I read a few and found them pretentious and crappy). I was going to read two stories last night but Southern Thailand got in the way. I did read this story though, and it messed with my head enough to push David out of there for a while, long enough for me to come up with a preliminary analysis of the author's intention. Go read it! It's deliciously bizarre and borders on absurdism. Lovely.
At the end of everything, I still love literature and writing - more so than David Cook, obviously. Nothing else quite does it for me, if I'm being honest. Law certainly doesn't, music doesn't, films don't. If Literature were a guy, that's the man I'd marry.
Too sleepy, starting to type nonsense, so going to bed.
Before that: I FINISHED MY FUCKING PAPER + DAVID COOK ALSO WINS AT LIFE = COOKIE FTW.