How to Write a Term Paper in less than 40 Steps:

1. Wait until the night before it's due. Sit in your significant other's chair watching Adult Swim and surfing the internet for “techniques to end procrastination,” telling him you have a paper due the next day, but it's all cool, you've done the reading. All you need to do is get up in the morning and write the thing.

2. Gawk at Craig Ferguson, the Scottish Silver Fox.

3. Go to bed around midnight, rationalizing you'll wake up early to get started on the paper. You might have to revisit the topic at this point (it's a little vague in your memory), but decide you can just as easily do that first thing in the morning too.

4. Before going to sleep, set two alarms, just to be diligent. Set one for 3:00 a.m. because you actually want to wake up at 4:00 a.m. and need the satisfaction of turning the first alarm off and going back to sleep. However, you don't want to wake up your significant other with all that beeping, so you set it discreetly under your pillow, within easy reach.

5. Turn first alarm off.

6. Hit snooze button on second alarm.

7. Hit snooze button again.

8. Start to hit snooze button for the third time, then just decide you'll get up at 6:00 and turn the alarm off. One more hour of sleep will be good for you.

9. Get up after 7:00.

10. Spend 30 minutes in a series of expletive-filled (you) and grunting (it) arguments with the coffee maker, most of which the machine wins by delivering hot, brown water that looks and smells like coffee, but isn't coffee.

11. Give up on coffee and have a Mountain Dew instead. Ignore significant other's remarks about how he doesn't understand how you can drink that shit first thing in the morning.

12. Pet the cat. Petting an animal reduces stress, you know.

13. Locate power cord for ailing laptop. Plug in, turn on, log into school e-mail to locate assignment topic. Discover it's not there, log into school's online course site, click on wrong course by mistake, frantically hit the “back” button and then wait for your computer to unfreeze itself before locating the proper class.

14. Pull up a blank word document, put your name, class, professor, and date in the top left corner. Log into facebook. Check the walls of friends in your class to see if they've started their paper. Write on said walls.

15. Realize you need the book from three weeks ago, and ransack the apartment looking for it. You thought you had left it in a bin on the green loveseat, but you've since cleaned up for company and forgot where you put the bin. Locate book on top of the fridge, think [???].

16. Back in front of your laptop, give your paper a banal title: basically, “The Assignment,” condensed and with proper capitalization.

17. Pet the cat. Did you know pets can also reduce blood pressure?

18. Look at the clock and realize you have four hours to write seven pages. No big deal, you think, once I get rolling I can whip out a page in twenty minutes. Attempt thesis paragraph.

19. Significant Other asks if you're going to make your deadline on time, and feigning nonchalance you dismiss his queries while simultaneously excavating last week's pile of clean laundry, figuring you're going to have to shower sooner or later, might as well do it now. Claim you're using the shower time to “develop your arguments.”

20. Secretly, you're a bit worried. Breakfast might steady your nerves. Protein. Always good.

21. With three hours left you're a page and a half into your essay. Google “[your book title] quotes” in an attempt to glean easy quips to integrate into your paper without rifling through the entire book. After checking three or eight sites, you realize none of them have proper (read: any) page citations, so you'll have to spend another twenty-seven minutes rummaging through the book anyway.

22. Ask significant other what another word for “_________” is (you don't want to sound redundant), spend eleven minutes arguing about meaning of said word before an appropriate substitute can be procured from thesaurus.com.

23. Two and a half hours left: go to the bathroom, grab another 'dew. Not at the same time, of course.

24. You're on a roll now, you've only got four pages to go! Still on track with about twenty thirty minutes per page. Just because you're doing so well, revisit facebook. Your brain was starting to get fried anyway. A study break is healthy once in awhile.

25. Nineteen minutes later, feeling vaguely guilty, return to your paper. You're absolutely determined to have no more distractions. Run out of things to say with two pages left.

26. Pet the cat. She's such a needy little thing, and she's giving you the puss-in-boots eyes. Probably because she's been in your plants.

27. Water plants. Between the cat and neglect, it's a miracle they're still alive, really. Apologize to the plants.

28. Edit paper in an attempt to find something more to say. Realize you have thirty-six minutes to finish your last two pages. Waste five of those minutes freaking out.

29. You need a conclusion! That will draw it out to five and two-thirds of a page, and don't forget to reiterate every main point.

30. Add a works cited page for page seven. Copy and paste in some websites that are marginally related to your topic title, hoping your professor will be impressed you did “outside research” without actually checking the websites.

31. Save paper.

32. Attempt to upload paper. Curse when upload fails.

33. Save paper again, just to be safe. This time close the document.

34. Attempt to upload paper again. Upload successful, and with four minutes to spare. Next time, you vow, you'll start sooner.

35. Gratifyingly shut laptop, stretch out, pet the cat, freeze halfway to the bathroom. Run back to laptop, hurl a few choice words at it when it won't wake up fast enough, misspell your password (twice), upload paper for the third time. This time, upon receiving the “upload successful” message, submit the damn paper.

36. It's 12:01. Have a drink.

Other tips for Writing Under Pressure a Successful Paper

• Learn to mimic your professor's diction and syntax patterns. Writing in their voice makes it seem like your ideas are their ideas, and they'll be more likely to give you a better grade.
• Be sure, also, to agree with any position your prof takes on whatever topic they've assigned for your paper, even if you have vehement opinions to the contrary. Chances are, if you've taken good notes (ha!), all you have to do is parrot your notes back to them in intellectual-sounding language.
• However, don't be a kiss-ass.
• Make use of the block quote, especially block quotes with dialogue. Scientific paper? Graphs, baby! Diagrams, flow charts, pie charts, bar graphs, line graphs, scatter graphs. If it's relevant, use it. It's a great way to take up space.
• And for god's sake, don't try to be witty. You're working on a deadline here.

on couponing and cheap needles

i usually work sunday mornings. this has some pretty cool advantages to it: first, i'm up early on a day i would otherwise sleep in, and while some people may look at that as an inconvenience, i think of it as good time management on a day i would have otherwise wasted. two, sunday crowds are usually pretty nice. lots of old people wanting their sunday papers. three, the saturday papers. see, one of my jobs on sunday morning before we open is to pull saturday's papers and set out sunday's, which means the poor unbought saturday papers head to the giant recycle box in back, unless of course their innards are rescued by me. then, during the slow spots, i can peruse the ads and clip coupons, should i find any worth having.

maybe i'm speaking from the ignorance of the uninitiated, but couponing hardly seems worth it. i see the tv shows where people have three carts of stuff and only pay some ridiculously small amount, like $8.73 or something, and i just don't get it. these people may very well qualify as hoarders. one couple had 53 bags of assorted chips in their garage stockpile. how can one eat that many before they go bad? these people have to have stockpiles to get the most out of their deals. i don't know about you, but i couldn't fathom having an entire shelf of gatorade in my house, or 35 bottles of maalox.

Of course, the rationale is twofold - buy only stuff that won't go bad (which is a blurry line for some people), and then if you run out when something's not on sale, you can just get it from your stockpile.

i repeat: 53 bags of chips, 35 bottles of maalox, entire shelf, stacked front to back, of gatorade.

i'll stick to the occasional clip.

as for the cheap needles thing? we're talking knitting needles. i bought a cheapy pair of circulars in my impatience (and stinginess) to complete a shawl, and they broke. in fact, the one side popped off so violently that the cable ricocheted in the other direction, leaving half my stitches stranded without a lifeline and a good half of those dropped down. 

this was after i started to rip it back, but as you can see if was turning out to be a fairly pretty little shawl. i'm still thinking about using some of my tax refund to put together little comfort shawl kits with yarn and needles and instructions and leaving them around town for people to find. i would love to think i changed someone's life by putting needles in their hands. maybe i'm being a bit altruistic. it would've made my day, at least.

i don't feel much like posting today

but i will anyway.

it's one of those days where my fingers are itching to do stuff, but my bed is really comfortable. that's right, i'm still in my jammies. i could knit in bed, or read, but what i really want need to do is put my laundry away before i have to endure any more ribbing from my hubby, and clean up the kitchen and dining area so i can start my january sewing projects.

winter colds are really vicious. i'm still fighting one from december 28th. maybe that's why my bed feels so nice today... and i haven't had any caffeinne yet, either, so that could be contributing as well.

the important thing not to let myself get trapped inside my own head today. scary place, that is. yoda, i apparently am.

so, random list:

1. should a finish reading a book i'm not really all that into, simply because i'm 75% done with it already?

2. how much ribbing is sufficient for a hat?

3. is a stripe of purple too girly for a baby boy's sweater?

4. i really want to make dinner tonight, but a don't want to go to the store.

5. i kinda want to spin, but that's not really a bed-friendly activity.

6. etsy is a bad place when you're craving handmade stuff. or good, depending on your viewpoint.

7. fresh-baked bread makes really good french toast.

8. flannel is really, really cozy.

9. i'm on a bulky yarn, rainbow color kick.

10. i also need to find something to make with it other than hats and scarves

11. that is all, my friends.

Insanity, thy name is Einstein

Not that Albert Einstein was himself insane (remind me to change my facebook profile; I think I may have misappropriated his quote to someone else). Einstein is attributed to leaving us this brilliant little gem:

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Clearly, by Einstein-ian measures, I am insane.

Once again, despite giving myself a pep talk a few weeks ago (sort of - that one was about not skipping class), I have ended up in the position of having a bunch of work to do (read: tons) at 10:30 on a Sunday night. And it's no one's fault but my own.

I readily accept blame for this predicament, but to make myself feel just a tad bit better, I turned to Jean Debuffet (like french "john" + day-bouf-fay: don't worry, I had to look him up too. He's a painter/sculpter-type person) who said:

"For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. 'Normal' means lack of imagination, lack of creativity."

So by this definition, because I'm insane, I'm most definitely sane. But if I'm sane, I'm normal, which apparently also means I'm psychotic.

To be insane? Or to be psychotic? Choices, choices...



p.s. No knitting for me tonight.

p.p.s. Okay, maybe just a row or two, you know, to take the edge off and keep me awake at 2 a.m.

take a breath...

i keep telling myself it's a learning process. that it wasn't all a waste. i know how to do stuff now that i didn't know before. it wouldn't have worked anyway.

the litany can go on, but the truth of the matter was that the mirrored-cable-with-wishbone-cable-in-the-center-scarf i was making has been frogged (you know, rip it, ribbit). the type of background stitch that allows the cables to pop off the background also has a tendency to curl. badly.

i thought at first a little curl would be good, you know, it would go with the natural curve under the neck, but this was more than a curl, it was a fold. how about blocking, you say? well, that would have worked great it the yarn i was using was 100% wool, but it's not. it's a wool blend. which means it would have blocked beautifully until someone tried to wear it, at which point it would revert right back to where it had been before.

i realized this problem about seven cable repeats into my cowl. so, the first thing i tried was to rip back just a few cables and put in another 5 rows of seed stitch across the entire thing, to kinda make cable panels. that didn't work. so i tried using a different background, which necessitated ripping back all the way to the first cable. i may have had a bud light to fortify myself, but i reminded myself it was just two days work in my spare time, no biggie. so i tried a garter stitch background, but it was just too stretchy, vertically.

rip it. rip it. rip it.

time to search ravelry.

christmas project countdown:  13 projects (plus maybe 3 for my little family)

countdown - 5 hours to bird time

okay, so i'm up a little later than i expected.

the turkey is in the brine bath, which will get flipped at three a.m., then the bird gets rinsed and put in the oven at 6 am, because dinner's at eleven!

herb butter is ready.

sweet potatoes are mashed, rosemary/mascarpone is mixed....

can't do anything else until tomorrow morning.
oh, wait.

clean the stove-top
clear off the chair
clean the bathroom
dust the living room
put away all my shoes
put away all my laundry
hang pictures in the bedroom

nine hours.
four of which i plan to spend sleeping, which means i have, oh, 45 minutes for each task if i'm going to be ready by the time everyone shows up.
oh, wait.
i have less than that, because i also need to finish cooking, and at some time or other, shower and make myself presentable.

here, look at some pretty pictures:

that would be a BAZINGA cross stitch, a basketweave scarflette, and honey-bourbon barbecue sauce.
christmas crafting proceeds apace.

time for sleep!..... ZZzzzzz.... ZZzzzzz

anyone know how to warp the space-time continuum?

today is one of those days when i realize my lifestyle, while it has certain benefits, can sometimes bite me hard on the hind parts (i borrowed that phrase).

for example, by monday, i need to have three papers, two edits (with responses), three art dolls, one knitting needle roll and two halloween costumes done.

problem is, since i get by fairly competently in class by paying attention and taking good notes (i may also occassionally glance at the reading), that i never really end up doing the reading. so, to do these three papers, i have to catch up on all my reading. normally this wouldn't be a big deal, but the reading is either medieval texts (only some of which are translated out of middle english and into regular english), theoretical essays on shakespeare, or unfiltered literary criticism essays, which draw from everyone from nietzsche to freud to derrida. unfiltered. unabridged.

it also doesn't help that my sewing machine is broken, and that i will probably have to neglect all housework and probably a fair chunk of sleep just to get this all done.

see? if i had just kept up with my reading, i'd already have a fair chunk of this knocked off, or at least started. it doesn't help that i'm a master procrastinator as well. i think it comes from being overly controlled as a child. i didn't rebel by getting drunk, or high, or chopping off my hair and turning it green, or wearing all black and getting weird tattoos and piercings. instead, i haven't made my bed in seven years and never do things when i'm told. i get them done eventually, just not when i'm told.

i'm not even going to think about my christmas crafting list.

eh, not much.

my soon-to-be hubby and i checked out the local ren faire on memorial day, and this was the cool part:

he said he was pretty sure the horses were destriers... they had hooves the size of dinner plates. they didn't do any actual jousting... they said they would later, like, full armor and all but we didn't stick around. too many drunk girls dressed as "woodland faeries" and toting trolls on leashes. they didn't even have a spinner! or any craftsmen, for that matter. a few jewelry places, and few places with swords and the like... we saw a ninja selling pickles. yeah, i'm not sure about that either.

yeah, no more swapping for awhile. my shirts from the shirt swap were pretty awesome, but the bracelet sucks expletives. most of the charms and plastic and glittery. so what i said i didn't want. for those of you who don't know how swapping works, you fill out a questionnaire with your likes and dislikes and you try and craft something for your partner according to their likes. usually there's a theme for the whole swap, so you've got some ideas. mine was crafted from my dislikes list. the cheek of her. at least she sent. she disappeared for three weeks, so i was fairly certain i was going to get flaked on. come to think of it, it probably would've been better that way.

i dunno. i just feel weird. tired of riding the roller-coaster but would still like to be in the park. feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all.

by all accounts it should have been a good day. how many bridal showers do you get, after all?

yet i can't shake this feeling. this uneasy, disquieting, can't-quite-put-my-finger-on-it feeling.

worst part is, i don't want to work on anything. not even practicing my new knitting skills. i don't want to work on any of my projects, i don't even want to read. truth be told i don't even want to write.

i'm (hopefully) back with a vengeance

i've re-found my mojo. um... my craft mojo.

i've also discovered i need to quit my job. i think this post will be a massive "lists" post. here we go:

Reasons I Should Quit My Job

1) i apparently have to explain the color white to 15 year olds. if it is cream colored with gray stripes, it is not white.

2) also, cargo pants are not dress pants, a henley is not a button down shirt, and skaters do not count as "dress" shoes.

3) if you're here at 7:32 and the call time is 7:30, you're late. don't give me that "how could you?" look.

4) if i say use complete sentences, i sort of assumed that also means use complete words. apparently this needs explanation.

5) today, when i called a certain company to figure out why my order never made it from the rep to the actual company, they suggested next time i order i call a week later and make sure they got it, then told me no, they can't rush my order. awards assembly is tomorrow.

6) my boss is a cross between jabba the hut and a schizophrenic bull with a head shaped like a clove of garlic. god i hope no one knows about this blog.

7) i'm sure i have other reasons. i'm just too emotionally strung out to remember them.

8) oh, here's a good one. i have a club of parents who tried to get me fired because i didn't give their slacker children A's. it didn't work, but still.

Reasons I Love the Yarn Harlot

1) i am not a bad hoarder. in fact, by these standards, my stash nature is still of the "i can walk away from that yarn if i want to" type. though i do have my good stuff (read: wool, silk, bamboo, cotton, and natural fiber blends) in clear plastic storage boxes.

2) i am also an equal-opportunity non-finisher. my UFO list (UnFinished Objects) is well over 20 at this point. though it's not all crochet.

3) i am, also, a harlot. problem is i'm not just a yarn harlot, i'm a paper harlot, fabric harlot, and bead harlot. i also flirt with embroidery and cross stitch, but we're careful not to talk about one in front of the other.

4) thank heavens someone else is NORMAL when it comes to the trial and tribulations of working on projects. okay, "normal" might be a stretch... someone else who is obsessive about mistakes. i just ripped back four entire rows of an afghan for one missed stitch, because i was going to give it to someone else.

5) come on, she's the harlot. how could you not love her?

back to work. projects in the queue:
1 baby afghan (1/3 done)
1 brown, chestnut, ivory, and cranberry wedding afghan (um, 11/80 squares done)
1 ivory, charcoal, and deep turquoise wedding afghan (haven't started but due at the end of the summer!)
ringbearer pillow (need stuffing and embellishment)
flower girl basket (just the flowers!)
three, count 'em, three pairs of unfinished earrings i'm angeling for a swap (well, i have all the pieces...)
a half-covered cat. to clarify, a wooden cat, covered in bits of old dictionary
four placemats that need quilting and binding
a dress that needs taking in and hemming
a baby quilt for the hope chest, still needs the top put together
2/3 curtains for the living room, and we're moving out in july
a sweater vest that needs the rest of the back, sewing and edging
and, i admit, i have SMS.... second mitten syndrome.
also, i have SSS.... second slipper syndrome.
oh, and three pairs of earrings for, um, something else.

i think i forgot something.

what do you do when inspiration leaves?

RANT

i wish more people would pay less attention to the wedding, and more attention to the marriage.

off to the doctor!

for a headache that won't quit. two days and three different kinds of medication, enough sleep and caffeinne, good diet and all, and i'm sitting in front of the computer with sunglasses on, feeling each tick of the keyboard reverberate inside my skull...

granted i'm only on the computer because i actually do need to work today, so through the wonders of e-mail and cell-phone correspondence i'm actually getting a fair amount done, just not at the office.

i wouldn't go to the doc either, i mean, it's just a headache right? who goes to the doctor for a headache? headaches nearly every day, though, sometimes accompanied by nausea and often with sensitivity to light, sound, and movement are not good. this one has all that and more! tell the lady what she's got: skull-splitting pain centered behind the eye, accompanied with a severe sense of vertigo and throbbing pain upon movement, sensitivity to light and sound, movement-related nausea and a constant ringing in her ears!

i'd rather be listening to bad trombonists.

i was feeling better for a brief spell yesterday and managed to cook like a mad woman for the two hours i was functional. there's something uppity-foodie feeling about cooking while casually watching a french movie. and no, it wasn't french cooking.

i made a hearty sausage stew and cornbread to go with it, a pie for dessert, and homemade peach-strawberry muffins for sectionals this morning. except my crock pot soup stayed on "warm" all night so it would be ready to go this morning, and the rice and barley kind of, well, turned to mush. the veggies are still firm though, so no loss really. sweet basil, thyme, and a pinch of hot chili powder... yum...

after the doc today i get to go home and be little miss stepford again and vacuum the house and clean the toilet, provided i don't get put on bedrest or something (can you say, "drama queen"? i know, i know, i eat it all up...). i did a massive round of dishes yesterday, but during my cooking binge, which i seem to have been trying to provide for all two of us for a week, i managed to fill the sink again. both sides. and a bit of the counter. scrubbing bubbles ahoy!

wow, my mood seems to shift precariously and precociously today between humorous and downright depressed.

maybe doc'll have something for that too.

WARNING: potentially flammable material. DO NOT READ if a friend of craftster

so every night we have this ritual: he sits down in front of one computer and pulls up a game, and pulls up another game or show on the other computer, and i sit here on the couch behind him and look at other people's creations.

it's sad, really. i should be creating my own things - well, i do - but i sit here and look at all these projects, outpourings of creation; some good, some bad, some quality, some not, some made for others, for themselves, for kids... the list could go on and on... i'd say maybe one out of every 200 i'm actually truly interested in...

i have issues with craftster. i appreciate the place as a forum for people who like to craft, and there are certain aspects i agree with - the tutorial sections, for example, are particularly helpful. what i don't understand, and maybe this is because i'm not very versed in internet communities, is the interaction between posters and the people who comment. i realize this is a "free country" and people can say whatever they want, and maybe i'm a little starved for artistic recognition myself, but here' an example typical of craftster: i posted a really high quality necklace i made (seriously, i got paid like $30 for it), and i got nothing, not even a single comment, but a cross stitch that says F**K YEAH (you know, but without the asterisks) generates 3-4 pages of "awesome" comments. another typical craftster; post a sob story along with your project, it's a guaranteed two pages at least. make sure your pet gets in the picture and that will up your comments quota by at least five posters. and you'll never get a negative comment. EVER. even if you're looking to troubleshoot something, you'll get a bunch of "honey, it's beautiful the way it is," "it's art, it doesn't have to be perfect," "i don't see what's wrong with it; great job!"

one of craftster's t-shirt sayings is "Don't Date: Craftsterbate!" hmm, are they trying to tell us something?? oh! call on me! i get it! craftster is a place where people go to stroke their own creative libidos by shoving their "creations" out into the void. or more accurately, into the arms of so much shallow praise.*

here's one scenario that really irked me: someone posted a picture frame, broken in one corner and splatter-painted red, with a picture of her friend with a (fake) gun to his head in the frame. a friend and i got pretty upset by this, and we said, "we know you're entitled to artistic freedom, but could you please warn people in your topic heading that you have potentially sensitive material in your post? some/many have lost friends or know someone who has lost a loved one to suicide, and we don't take it lightly or joke about it." our posts were deleted by the moderator because they were deemed offensive.

i still browse, every day, like some sort of sordid addiction, and once in awhile there's a good project and a genuine artist pops up. the rest of 'em are a bunch of posers. a preponderance of wannabe lolita's and young and old punks, hippies, rockabillies, and general social rebels. "see what i did? i cut up a t-shirt, smeared some black paint on it and did it all up in safety pins. i'm an artist and you can't understand the angst in my soul."

go cry, emo kid. i refuse to offer social justification for this. at least it's better than a bunch of melrose place/gossip girl copycats, though some posts come dangerously close.

that's a rant for another day.

* as an educator, i realize there is nothing wrong with praise and encouragement. i take issue specifically with empty, gratuitous generalities, which are actually more harmful than honest, constructive criticism. it's like giving every kid on every t-ball team a trophy at the end of the season, because "there are no winners and losers." well, yes there are, in t-ball and in real life, and there's nothing wrong with kids (and adults) learning that lesson with grace and respect. just because you have a shiny piece of plastic doesn't mean you've accomplished anything; at least nowadays it doesn't. another rant, another day.