The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

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Sheer Heart Attack

Panic. Terror. Nothing grips me the way that trying to find a job does. Not even women. I get butterflies asking out a girl, but only jobs and especially *ulp* resumes really really make me want to just curl up and die. Logic and sense have no power over this aversion.


In other news, I have my first Wacky NeighborTM. Some guy that lives above my bedroom likes to croon pathetically this one song at 11AM on Monday. Or he has for the past two weeks. So what do I do? A duet. I don't know the words, but neither does he, it seems. I don't think he heard me, though so next week I get louder (loudness here is denoted by using bold text. Bold text is shown here with underlining and underlining is shown by the use of nothing less than italics. (Ha! You thought I was going to use bold, didn't you?)).

Aren't I good at procrastination? God, I hate that word and the popularity it's gained. It's become socially accepted and even respectable. It makes it oh-so-hard to view it as a bad thing. I also hate "later" jokes associated with procrastination. And I hate them NOW.

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