And I'm up writing a 10 page paper for class, so rather than writing something new for this blog, here's an old blurb for you to enjoy:
I believe we’re all born with at least one special curse. I mean, sure, we all get the God-given curses that go along with being male or female, but I’m talking about those above and beyond curses. For some it may be early male-pattern balding such as with my dad, or the inability to clap on beat such as with my mom. For others it may be uncontrollable snorting, extreme disorganization, fear of heights or susceptibility to sunburn. For me, it’s procrastination.
I was procrastinating even before I was born. I kept putting off the whole birthing process until I was well beyond a manageable weight. I work best with deadlines, and since the doctor didn’t clearly specify when I had to be out by, I took no initiative to leave my mom’s cozy womb. And when my poor mother finally did try to push me out, I wouldn’t budge. At 10 pounds, 4 ounces, there was no way. Had the doctor not yanked me out in a C-section, I probably would have stayed in there for several more weeks.
For whatever reason, my birth curse always surfaces when I’m about to leave on a big trip or when an academic paper is due. It often results in an all-nighter and a miserable day to follow. In fact, there was one month of college I was averaging two all-nighters a week in order to get my papers written in time for class. It was then that I decided if I was in charge of designing hell, rather than gnashing of teeth, there would be research papers due every morning…and Satan would have to grade every single one of them.
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