How to Clean Your Computer Screen

yuck...i have to clean my computer screen.

now that i'm standing up, i have to pee.

i'm hungry.  is there any muesli left?

darn, i forgot to put away my clothes that are dry.

but i have nowhere to fold them until i make my bed.

oh.  this is due tomorrow.

Looking ze Gift Horse Right in ze Bouche

(English below)

Je suis intelligente, oui, mais je ne suis pas toujours une bonne étudiante.  En particulier, j’ai du mal à trouver la motivation pour tout ce qui est plus difficile qu’être avachie dans ma chaise, regarder des images amusants sur Internet, et manger du chocolat.  Il me semble que quand je me débrouille toute seule, mon état naturel est celui de la paresse et la dégénérescence.

Donc le manque de nouveaux posts.  J’essaie une stratégie différente maintenant, dont le but est tout simplement de me forcer à accomplir quelque chose.  N’importe quoi.  Cette stratégie est caractérisée par l’attribution au hasard des priorités différentes à mes tâches.  Comme ça, les objets de haute priorité ne sont pas toujours les plus difficiles.  Je peux donc me démarrer en éliminant des choses plus faciles et prendre de la vitesse de là.

Demain, mes examens partiels commencent.  Il me faut étudier.  C’est pourquoi j’ai une nouvelle bande-dessinée pour vous aujourd’hui.  Je suis contente parce que j’ai accompli quelque chose.

Comme toujours, écrivez-moi un petit mot ronchon si j'ai fait des fautes en français.

I'm smart, yes, but I am not always a good student.  In particular, I have trouble finding motivation for everything that is more difficult than slouching in my chair, looking at funny pictures on the Internet, and eating chocolate.  It seems that, when left to my own devices, my natural state is one of sloth and degeneration.

Hence the lack of new posts.  I'm trying a different strategy now.  The goal is simply to force me to accomplish something.  Anything.  This strategy is characterized by the random attribution of different priorities to my tasks.  That way, the high-priority items aren't always the hardest ones.  I can thus start off by eliminating some of the easier things and gain momentum from there.

Tomorrow, my midterms start.  I have to study.  That's why I have a new comic for you today.  I am happy because I have accomplished something.

As always, write me a grouchy comment if I've made a mistake in French.

"Shoot, I forgot my wallet."
"Don't worry, I can buy them for you.  Your birthday's in 2 weeks, right?"

"That's true.  Thanks!"
"Don't mention it."

"Actually, this is a lousy gift...crackers and tissues?  You cheapskate."

I'm Thinking of a Number

Sometimes writing essays is like a game.  The professor says, “I’m thinking of a number between 1 and a billion.  Guess.”  But the number is an essay and if you don’t write the one the professor’s thinking of, you fail.

"Now I'm thinking of a letter between E and G..."

How to stop procrastinating

EEEEEEE! Back to School!

...when you realize that you were too excited about school to pay attention to homework, professors, or biological needs.

What is distracting?

The more venerable readers of Nibble & Spew may be enlightened by the fact that "hw" means "homework".  This is an old picture, so be a good sport and feign amnesia if you've already seen it.

Pride & Procrastination

Tonight, I present to you a chronicle of incoherent thoughts collected during one dark and stormy night last spring.  I had to write a four-page English paper on Pride and Prejudice.  That was all.  Four pages is incredibly short by college standards.  It should have taken about four well-planned hours--but as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, my brain emitted a fart and died.  Note the times of each successive comment.

And Yet, Still Majoring in French

Sorry for the late post.  Due to me not understanding how to use my cell phone, the weekly "DON'T FORGET YOU HAVE A BLOG!" alarm failed to fire. 

The French take an indescribable, meticulous fascination in distilling every nuance from the slightest of emotions.  I base this conclusion on four years of reading France's answer to The Catcher in the Rye mixed with Where the Red Fern Grows à la Slaughterhouse Five.

First, it is a law that characters must die in every single work of fiction penned by a French hand.  Not only that, but they must die painfully, and their deaths must cause untold agony for those who once knew them.  (Readers included.)  Death by drowning, by poison, by gunshot, or simply by wasting away of misery--these are the only acceptable ends for fictional residents of the Hexagon.

Second, the characters who don’t die (or who remain woefully alive until the end of the story) are required to be unhappy.  Their wives or husbands should be unfaithful.  Their shops should do badly.  Their children or lovers should die.  Extra points if they kill their own cat by throwing it against a wall.

Finally, since nothing resembling success ever occurs, these characters have plenty of time to reflect on what a cruel beast is Fate.  One may spend an entire morning wandering hag-like through the boulevards of Paris and wondering when the greenish, bloated, rotting visage of one's drowned husband (whom one has killed) will fade from one's memory and allow one to sleep.  There's nothing better than a long walk for fixating on nauseating imagery and the feelings it provokes.  Ô la belle vie française!

I'm guessing that if you have read only one French book, it was The Little Prince.  The Little Prince was slightly different from the trope in that (SPOILER ALERT) the certainty of the death of the Little Prince is under debate.  But this book contains another important element of French literature, which is that it does not make sense.

Did not plan ahead

I don't always do my homework, but when I do, it's at 3 am on the day it's due.  

Just kidding.  (Mom and Dad take note.)  I'm usually good at getting work done on time.  But you know how you put off an assignment until the last minute and then realize that problem #1 is actually 1a, 1b, 1c, 1d, 1e, 1f, 1g, 1h, 1i, and 1j?  Sometimes that happens.

And sometimes your dormmates hijack your unique, insightful complaintspace for their own petty problems.