Another Ennui-Laced Blog of Ennuiness

I have just spent about the last half-hour doing nothing. "Eff all," if I were to use harsh language. I've done nothing but look at websites that don't amuse me. Of course, I know what I should be doing: I should be finishing my homework for poetry class. Failing that, I should at least call one of my very good acquaintances and say, "What's up. Wanna hang out?" But I haven't even been able to do that. I've eaten just about an entire packet of lebkuchen cookies, but even that rush of sugar hasn't been enough to yank me out of my stupor. I feel as though all of my motivation has fallen off the bottom of the car with a "plunk" when I hit a bump. It's a dangerous time to be blogging, my friends.

Speaking of blogging, I am hereby putting a moratorium on the term "blogosphere." I just don't like it.

And between you and me, artist-formerly-known-as-blogosphere, I'm annoyed that I have to actively read the poetry of a small group student poets randomly assigned to me by my poetry class and try to make fruitful comments on it. Every week. As though I wasn't doing that enough already for the full-class workshops. That's reading and improving six student poems a week. How am I going to find the strength to write my own poems, I ask you, particularly after tromping through six more or less crappy poems and trying to give a damn about each of them? Particularly with the especially soul-sucking addition of knowing that the comments I finally do tear bloodily from my cerebrum will at best be ignored and will at worst cause offense and consternation not normally seen outside natural disasters. Don't tell my teacher I said this. I'm a good boy. I'll behave.

Oh, screw it. Come 'ere, last lebkuchen....