Pro-Crastination

At the moment, I'm at a weird place. And I don't mean that in a metaphysical sense--although it fits there too--I'm sitting in my bathroom at home, typing on my laptop because the Olympics are going on downstairs and my essay's supposed to be going on up here, and this is the quietest place in the house. And I still can't focus. So I figured I'd talk on here, because sometimes that helps. To be honest, I don't expect it to. I've been working on this essay for the past three days and I have absolutely motivation. I couldn't care less about Stevens the butler and whether or not he's a reliable narrator in The Remains of the Day. I didn't hate the book, but I hate writing about it. I used to love writing-that's why I'm studying Journalism, that's why I have this blog...well kind of...the blog thing was more because I thought I should start liking writing again, and maybe it would take more practice to get into the habit and then the habit would make me like it.
Or maybe getting a good mark on my essay would be what it would take to start liking writing again. But you know how it is--the more it matters, the more I freeze up. The more I care, the more I can't bring myself to meet my own expectations. No, it's not particularly logical, but that's how it is.
Back on subject though.
Remains of the Day is a decent book about a guy who trusted the wrong people and subsequently has to deal with the fact that the guy who he gave his wholehearted loyalty to wasn't a good guy to follow. He refuses to acknowledge his emotions, and doesn't even seem to recognize them himself till it's too late. It's depressing, but simultaneously fascinating to get inside the guy's head.
But then, people who aren't emotional have always been fascinating to me. The repressers, the sociopaths who have no remorse...I'm jealous sometimes. I've always had a hard time lying, and more often than not, everything in my head is written in my face for the world to see.
Some days, it would be a relief to feel nothing.
That's kind of an emo note to leave off on, though, so I'll try to fix that: on the plus side, I'm getting an education, I have a roof over my head, I have indoor plumbing, and I have the freedom to write in this thing, whether it's anything really beneficial for the rest of the human race or not, and therefore, I have very little to complain about. Nothing really.
So. Enough stalling. Essay time.