Hamlet, Essay, Exam, Valentines Day

College. Snow day. Paper due tomorrow. Exam tomorrow. Valentines day tomorrow. But here I sit trying to pound out a paper on Hamlet's theme of action vs. indecision with the movie comparison of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I have sat here for too long trying to be productive, but all I come up with is horrible! My head is too far into this essay that I hoped would stand as a David among my portfolio. And then all the negative self-talk starts about my writing aspirations. But in the depths of my mind a flash of pink and red was seen that helped me feel better about life! VALENTINES DAY.

By definition I am a single woman, in college, and I have no one to spend Valentines day with and I should be miserable, but instead a smile spreads across my face. Valentines day is a better excuse for a crappy day than Friday the 13th.  No matter what you're complaining about if you add, "and it's Valentines day..." to the end of your complaint suddenly your problems are validly much worse than anyone could have supposed. Let's test this out:

Which sounds like a worse day:

• 'Ugh! My alarm didn't go off and my hair looks horrible!' 

 Or

• 'Ugh! My alarm didn't go off and my hair looks horrible...and it's Valentines day...'

• 'I have an essay that is ruining my life!'

 Or 

• 'I have an essay that is ruining my life and it's due on Valentines day!'

• 'This essay is putting me through the meat grinder and it's making me all self-conscious about writing and stupid that I want to go into creative writing. I AM A FAILURE!'

Or

• 'This essay is putting me through the meat grinder and it's making me all self-conscious about writing and stupid that I want to go into creative writing. I AM A FAILURE! AND IT'S VALENTINES DAY!'

• 'This chick flick stinks!'

Or

• 'This chick flick stinks and it's Valentines day!'

 See what I mean? By merely adding four words to the end of your sentence suddenly you're just pleading for validation and anyone who doesn't give it is then insensitive. 

Red Herring:

In Paris I was walking around with a group of friends when a bunch of drunk guys felt like some of my friends were incredibly pretty and they wanted to get up in their business. We ran onto a bus, but our new suitors wouldn't be deterred. Here's a photo of them blowing kisses to me. They were probably drunk and that's why they got confused and decided to blow kisses to me instead of the girls they were originally hunting for. 

 Oh the men of Europe, sometimes it wouldn't hurt if an American guy wanted to be a little more forward and said I was pretty...I got that all the time in Europe, but maybe those guys were just scamps.

Back on track:
 Life hurts today. I hope I'm a writer of any kind (except the average or horrible kind). I love writing. I know it's a powerful thing, but it's a competitive field and I kind of feel like an average or horrible writer. Well, I've got things to do, and it's Valentines day, so I better make it look good.

Shebz