FOCUS!

It’s Monday: 11:15 in the morning. I should definitely be studying, but I can’t focus. I’ve never been diagnosed with ADD, but, regardless, its symptoms seem to rear their ugly head  from time to time. The morning's sports highlights simply couldn’t go unwatched. I simply had to check if anybody had posted anything to their blog lately. I’d checked Saturday, but thought it necessary to check every classifieds site imaginable to see if I could land Brenda a job for when she moves back down here. I’ve probably logged into Facebook three times this morning. I’ve made lacklustre attempts to open my History textbook and review my scant notes—it’s a Saturday class. Would any of you take serious notes in a Saturday class?—but I am scatterbrained right now. I’m too busy looking forward to the end to realize that a virtual climb to Everest’s peak is necessary before I reach the end; yet it seems so tantalizingly close. This is my last ditch effort at gathering my thoughts. Maybe putting everything I’m thinking at the moment “out there” will help me focus after.
I really should be freaking out. I haven’t gotten nearly enough studying done. Most of last week was written off between coaching basketball, and running the farm due to my brother’s unexpected week-long stay in the hospital. I’ve exams this Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Monday—the last four days of the exam period. Lame, especially when your nature is to procrastinate. At least the last one is easy. My brother is leaving for Mexico on Thursday as well, so inter-exam study time will be less than ideal. While I’m writing this, the needle on my imaginary grocery shop-like freakout scale is rapidly spinning counter-clockwise; passing the zero and going around for a second time, even.
It doesn’t help that after I’m done, I get to go up to Smithers and move Brenda back home. And it’s Christmas. Studying for finals is so much harder when there’s so much to look forward to afterwards. I guess that’s the case at the end of every semester, but this time it’s exceptional.
Alas, it’s time to give myself the proverbial self-kick in the rear—unless somebody else would like to volunteer?—and get to work. Every time I seem to pull through. I squash crunch time. I survive the pressure cooker. I take the heat; in a parka—Haha a thousand points to anyone who remembers that little inside joke. Okay it’s time to go. Or now. Yup, absolutely, now. GAH!