Procrastination At Its Finest?

Procrastination. It’s completely normal. Almost like human nature. Almost, not quite yet. People become preoccupied with a hundred different things at once or something called laziness takes over and what needs to get done won’t be finished ’til the last-minute. Sadly, I have succumb to dreaded procrastination more than once, but for some reason I think that streak of surrendering is somehow coming to an end.

I’ll be completely honest: I’m not a big fan of research papers. The first research paper I had to do was last school year, and it wasn’t that fun. Being a new school year now, I have to do another required paper. Thankfully, this paper is easier and not due at the end of the year, as with the latter. There is a topic, not a thesis. An author, not an issue that we agree or disagree with.

Needless to say, this year’s research paper is on an author of our choosing or one that we were reading. Chosen by the student, nonetheless. It seemed like most people picked the first author that came to their head, like they didn’t really think about. Their brains just said ‘write down this name and pass the paper to the next person.’ I had no idea what author I would do a paper on. I had about five lined up, with obviously one being the victor. Unsure which author should be cut from my list, I chose two. Yeah, that probably sounds like a hassle or that I’m being a ‘teacher’s pet’ or something, but that’s not it at all. I thought the only way to get some kind of point across would be to do two papers on two completely different authors.

I have to admit, I was kind of surprised by the reactions I got when I was asked by fellow students what author I was doing my paper on. It’s not like the answer was different each time, it was the same every time. Dante Alighieri and Hunter S. Thompson. I got this bleak, almost dumbfounded look each and every time. Granted, I didn’t fully know about Dante until I saw something on the History Channel. I knew that he wrote Inferno, but didn’t know THAT much about him. As with Thompson, I didn’t know he wrote Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas until I saw the movie starring the beloved Johnny Depp. I did a little research after seeing the movie, thus finding even more about him. So, I guess I can’t really say that I’m surprised, but it sort of just shows that either I read too much or other people don’t read at all.

If anything really surprised me, though, it would have to be the fact that I’ve already gotten the majority of the information on my idols. Which isn’t something I usually do. For my previous research paper, I procrastinated and I felt like it wasn’t the best I could write, or write and research. I just flat-out wasn’t very happy with it, and I actually want to be happy with the things I write. Whether it be recreational creativity or not. The entire reason why I’m starting this paper a month early. Call it me breaking the curse of procrastination or not, but my motivation is probably at its best right now. I can’t say the same thing for volleyball, though. My motivation for that is still up in the air.

My motivation for writing definitely doesn’t lack foundation and the breakdown.

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Better With A Comfy Sweater & Chiodos

A while ago I said that the volleyball that was played during my gym class was pretty boring and not very amazing. I think we’re getting better, though. I’m not sure if I can say the same for myself, considering the fact I got hit in the head with the ball in our first real class game Thursday.

It’s typical protocol to wear the required gym attire to class every day. A pair of shorts and T-shirt, along with the occasional hoodie. Pretty simple. The majority of the time, I’m in the proper wear of surf shorts and the random shirt of the day. Thursday, I had my black shorts and dark purple Nightmare Before Christmas tee. My iPod shuffle was attached at my hip, as it has been ever since I realized I get pretty motivated through loud music. I didn’t bother to play it during the game, though. I figured I would try and actually pay attention for once. It didn’t get me very far…

I’ll admit, volleyball games have gotten better. The people playing actually do something now, with the exception on some days. I’m hardly ever bored when playing. That is, unless there’s another class in the gym, and everyone decides to gather to the net. Something like that can get really annoying if you’re wanting to actually play a game. With that once-and-a while-occasion, it’s a pretty good day in gym usually. All and all, I’d say we’ve improved.

…I’m not even sure how far into the game we were. All I knew was that the team I was on wasn’t hitting anything for a while and the other team was winning. We were obviously losing. The ball was coming right at me, which was probably the second or third time it’d came to me the entire game. The hit would’ve been perfect if I hadn’t move forward. Thinking I would move up so it didn’t hit the ground, I quickly moved up a little so I could ‘bump’ it. Bad move. I moved too far up and instead of hitting off my wrists as it usually did, the blue and white volleyball hit me on the right side of my dark red head. At first, I honestly wasn’t sure what happened. My team mates were giving me grief because I didn’t hit it, and the fact that I got hit in the head, added injury to insult. I quickly blew it off; something stupid like that didn’t matter anyway. I was definitely reminded of the game for the rest of the day. The collision that involved my head and the ball gave me the craziest headache, and maybe even knocked a little bit of sense into me. Only time will tell.

Whether be out of sheer laziness, a headache, or the fact that it was Friday, I didn’t bring my gym clothes yesterday. I had my shorts and shirt in my gym bag, all ready to be worn come third period. I just happened to ‘accidently’ forget them on the couch. Okay, it was all on purpose, but that gesture made me realize something. I’m a lot better at volleyball when I’m not appropriately dressed for gym. I walked out of the locker room in my super comfy, super fuzzy black sweater and Chiodos blasting in my ears…I played pretty awesome. For some reason, I was actually motivated to play, despite the fact I was just in regular clothes. Who knew that comfortable clothes and loud music could be a motivator for volleyball?

I exited the gym a little late, but it was worth it. My wrists were red under the sleeves of my black sweater and music still going through my green earbuds. It was a good 40 minutes of gym.

My motivation for sports lacks foundation and the breakdown.

Uneventful Game of ‘Wits’

Forget volleyball. It’s not that I’ve given up playing volleyball. That’s not the case at all. I just refuse to get plowed over by people who are taller and stronger than me. Or to play with people who have no idea how to play. Not my cup of lemon tea…

The volleyball net is in the middle of the gym, with two basketball hoops on either side. There are two gym classes the period I have gym, my gym class and the other gym class. This usually means that boys who hope to be the next big thing in basketball, totally dominate both of the hoops.  Heightening the risk for me or really anyone else, to be ran over by ignorant boys. The entire reason why I don’t even bother playing volleyball.

Yesterday, it seemed like there were somehow more people than there were last week. More than likely the reason why we weren’t penalized if we didn’t wear our appropriate gym attire. I took advantage of this opportunity. I forgot my clothes in my locker upstairs anyway.  For some reason, I just didn’t feel like even doing anything. I wasn’t physically ready for gym, and I couldn’t help but count the minutes til my last bell of the day rang.

Despite the fact there were more people, there weren’t as many guys playing basketball. I figured I actually would pass the time playing volleyball. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had finished the last 8 pages of the book I was reading. Part of me appreciates that I did. It only confirmed how irritating people can be. I know that it’s not easy playing volleyball. When I first started playing in 6th grade, I sucked, but over time I became better. But not being able to hit the ball straight? To the person right in front of you? It’s not that hard. Some people aren’t athletic and what not, but it’s not complicated.

The teams were pretty freakin’ uneven. There were, like, 6 or 7 people on the opposing team, and 4 on the team I was on. They weren’t in any type of positions, either. Just one semi-straight line of people, waiting for the ball to come their way. Some people were hitting the ball too hard, others too lightly. After awhile, I didn’t even hit the ball if it came to me. I didn’t care. Very uneventful. It was a pretty pointless game. Wished I hadn’t played.

Just another way people can get on my nerves and force me to look down on them because they’re ignorant. This is just a whole lot of ranting. Plenty more to come in the future.

Physical education = A joke

Third Day Of My Last Year

It’s Monday. The third day of my last year. I’m starting to really annoy myself when I think that. The third day of my last year…It sounds like I’m gonna die next year or something. How horrible. I still can’t get my head around the fact that I’m a senior, though. Getting past that totally annoying saying that I have to not say anymore…Yes, it is indeed Monday. And this Monday, I actually had fun in gym.

Last night and this morning, I felt, well not the best. Since the weather is deciding to go to from really warm to really chilly, my allergies and asthma were acting up. Not very cool, believe me. I feel asleep on the couch in our living room, which is something I never do on school nights. Well, I do, just not when I’m fully ready to sleep in my own bed. I feel asleep on the couch, with a chocolate brown fleece blanket over me, watching the show Monsters Inside Me. I don’t know if I fell asleep because I was tired or because of the really gross cases on the show. People were getting sick from bugs that were inside them. Actually inside them…I’m surprised I even slept.

I woke up a little later than I’d hoped, but I still woke up. I was feeling better. Still hurting in some places, but I was ok enough to go to school. I took a shower, got dressed, ate, fooled around with my hair, and did an asthma treatment. A big asthma treatment. The same asthma treatment that made me leave for school later than I usually would have, but it wasn’t really a big deal. I could hardly get into school anyway.

I stood there, in front of school, with countless other people, waiting to get into school. It wasn’t raining like it had been on Friday, which was good. It was actually a pleasant morning to be standing outside. If only I wasn’t at school…I watched people cut in front of other people. I didn’t cut in front of anyone, or at least I tried not too. I was just standing there, listening to AFI’s new single “Medicate”. I must have listened to it more than 5 times while waiting in the make-shift lines. A couple more in between classes through out the day. Finally, I made it into school. 20 minutes late, but I made it. My first period teacher was surprisingly ok with the fact that I was late. Others filed in after me a couple minutes later.

Most of this really sunny, chilly Monday was ordinary. All of my classes going by really quick, which is pretty normal because I only have 6 classes this year. English seemed to drag on, though. Probably because we weren’t doing anything. People were sitting there, holding their own conversations, while my teacher took attendance. He said something about handing us out books, but I guess there are more people coming in. Speaking about people coming into class, my French class was insane! There seemed like there were alot more people as oppose to Friday. The maximum capacity is, like, 25 and I think it might have been exceeded or will be soon.

The bell that ended English rang fashionably late, as I’m thinking it will all year. Lunch went by fast. I didn’t get lunch today, even though I told myself I would today. I just didn’t feel like getting up. My laziness for ya. I wished that I’d remembered to take my Amp energy drink out of the fridge before I left this morning. The bell that ended lunch was also, fashionably late. I walked into gym, dreading it a little.

The gym, for some reason, didn’t look as big as it did last week. Maybe the reason why my dread wasn’t so strong as it before. Now, I don’t hate gym at all. I love gym. I love playing volleyball. In my eyes, it’s the best stress reliever. Especially, if I’m having a bad day. I pretend the ball is someone’s head. Always works to relieve stress for me. I sat by this girl from my English class, Mariah, and my friend from freshmen year, Alyssa. After it took my gym teacher what seemed like forever to take attendance, the three of us decided to play ping pong.

At first, I wasn’t too sure if I should play because of my breathing, but it was fine all day, so I figured what the hell? Not the best move on my part, but I know my limits. I know what I can and can’t do. Mariah and Alyssa played a game of ping pong first. I was just watching against the bleachers. When they finished playing, I played Mariah. I honestly didn’t know how good I was at ping pong. I’d never played it to know whether I was good or not. I guess I’m a little too talented, I hit the ball up so high, it got stuck in between the upper part of the bleachers. We asked the other gym teacher if we could go get it, and she let us. All three of us walked up the steps next to the boys’ lockeroom, and found ourselves actually on top of the bleachers. I’d never been up there before, only of my firsts as a senior. After we got the ball, Alyssa and I played a game. Once again, I guess I was good. I didn’t get it up on top the bleachers again, which was good, but I barely missed the ball, either. I was what Alyssa called a “beast”.

Even when we were playing volleyball, two against one, I was still a “beast”. Two on one isn’t fair, but it’s how we played. I wished we had another player, but there wasn’t anyone else I knew and all the other individuals in the gym were preoccupied with their own things, and I’m very shy. People I don’t know + Being shy = Being very, very shy…I wasn’t as rusty as I thought I would be. The last time I’d played volleyball was in May, when my one teacher wasn’t there and my class had to go to the gym. Every serve Mariah hit to me, I hit. I never knew I had such an intensity for volleyball. I never missed a hit, with the exception of the soft ones or the ones that went over my head. And me being so tiny, it’s not that hard. The first 5, maybe 10 minutes of playing, my wrists were red. It didn’t bother me, though. It’s the only sport I’m relatively good at, so I figured at a little pain and soreness is worth it. We played until my gym teacher told us to put the ball up. My wrists were still red. My last bell of the day rang. Fashionably late, of course.

I walked home in the beauty and coolness of the afternoon sun, my wrists still red, still listening to “Medicate”. Today, I surprisingly learned alot. People who seemed like, not nice people, turn out to be ok. French is wayyy too crowded. My art teacher will not be at school this Friday. My English class has more people, and we will slowly, but surely be learning something soon. I write too much when my Health teacher only asked for 3 to 5 sentences. I have listened to AFI’s new single too many times. Wayyy too many times. That’s my Monday.

I guess I’m a “beast”.