In which I find myself disgusted at the fact that Pat Robertson hasn't been arrested for being dumb

After an inauspicious start to my stats experience, I finished my paper on Monday, and turned it in around 6 (I think--I tend to lose track of time). A day early! This, mind you, is not so much reflective of the quality of the writing so much as I really couldn't figure out anything further to say. Seriously, when your results indicate that there's a significant link but, really it's not THAT significant, what are you supposed to do? It's kind of like casually saying someone's your best friend when they're really more of an acquaintance.

The next hours/days were filled with more-or-less doing nothing in an attempt to get motivated to write my Sustainability Assessment paper on cost-benefit analysis versus multi-criteria decision analysis. Riveting stuff. By Tuesday night, I ended up with about 1300 words, and not much else.

I have a terrible time concentrating. I suppose part of it is due to the fact that my mind goes in about 1,000 different directions every second. It doesn't take much--a word, a picture--and suddenly I have to find out what aboriginal peoples of south Gambia knew about paper making in the 14th century. All this is just a giant timesuck. As are the multitudes of flash games available on the Internet. God, I hate flash games. They're far too addictive.

So Wednesday brought the big 24-hour take-home exam. Oddly enough, despite the title, I did most of this in the library. It's about the only place I can concentrate, plus stare awkwardly at people while I contemplate things such as "ecological modernisation" and bias in aggregate index scores. Really, I lead a thrilling existence. A few breaks with some of my coursemates later, I was done and finished by 12:30 last night (this morning?) and I walked home with a little Sam Amidon to keep me cosy. Nothing says "you're finished" like listening to "O Death" on your iPod.

Not being able to concentrate anymore, I rolled into bed, only to find that, of course, I couldn't fall asleep. Hesitating to take melatonin was really a poor decision on my part, and meant that I only got a couple hours of sleep before waking up at 7:30 to get a start on the revision. Which didn't go as planned after my printer crapped out on me. Damn internet inks. While the first essay revision went well, the second, uh, well, let's say the second paragraph's OK, but after that it's a ski-slope of mangled words and awkward phrases. OF COURSE, the internet was slow at school, which meant that after e-mailing the final paper to myself, printing, and trotting off to the dropbox, I only had about 2 minutes to spare.

After a hot chocolate (I'm five years old) and a Pimms (but also of legal drinking age) in celebration, I headed off home to fix myself lunch and settle down for a long winter's nap. Which. Was. Glorious. Apparently others had the same idea, though their's didn't turn out so well. Girl Robin apparently had a nightmare where I said horrible things to her. While this sounds entirely plausible, I'd like to think that when girls dream about me it concerns my incredible love-making skills rather than my ability to call them fat. C'est la vie.

Unfortunately, now, I still have to finish the other essay by the 2pm deadline tomorrow. It'll get done, I'm sure, but until then I'm just going to stew about how idiotic Pat Robertson is for talking about devil pacts, and how entirely comfortable Sarah Palin is in her own bullshit. Incidently, her talking about George Washington at the end reminds me of my favorite history clip of all time.