|These are likely my feelings right before the next soliloquy emerges .|
If you ever attended school with me, you would know that I was a schoolwork procrastinator. I always wanted to be the kind of student that would come home from school and get started on my homework and finish everything that I had to do by dinner time. You know the kid that knows there is a paper due in a few weeks and starts writing outlines? Well...that wasn't me.
I had the unique skill of knowing exactly when to start a five page paper... nine on a Sunday evening (well at least that was when I would open the word processing software on my laptop). Oftentimes, my opening argument wouldn't even be composed until after midnight. It's not like I was ignoring what I had to do or had fun and then forgotten the work that needed to be done, I would often create a self-imposed quarantine at least forty-eight hours before "said paper" was due. Most weekends I would not even go out or drink or see friends for days before my deadline. I would just sit in my room and occupy myself in other ways.
For some reason I can't get anything done without completely cleaning the room I intend to complete my work. So somehow Sunday afternoons became my most productive time (for everything except "said paper"), as I often read and highlighted the content I wanted to include in my essays, I would simultaneously color-code my closet and windex the wiper blades on my ceiling fan. From middle school through high school and all the way until I earned my diploma at the University of San Diego, I don't believe I ever had a "Sunday evening" that wasn't spent in my room anxiously procrastinating whatever project lingered on Monday morning's door step. Now you must be wondering "what is the purpose of these intimate and somewhat aimless confessions?" Well in my post-collegiate years, I felt a little bit lost that I no longer had my Sunday evening anxieties. Sunday's in adult life are no longer shrouded with feelings of distress and urgency, nor do I have to force myself to forgo Sunday night television to type and retype nearly the same opening sentence over and over again until it sounds just right. However, I feel like a little piece of who I am is missing without my Sunday procrastination rituals. Therefore, I'm instituting my own deadline that takes place every Sunday night before Monday morning, my "Sunday Evening Soliloquy".
My "Sunday Evening Soliloquy" will be a new feature I'm adding to Dressed and Educated and will include my thoughts, memories and whatever else I feel like sums up my state of mind that week. You know in Shakespeare when one of the leads goes off with the audience and the lights and just starts talking to himself? It's pretty much like that... but I'm not Hamlet nor suicidal and let's face it, I'm no Billy Shakespeare (although I have been attacked by swans near his house in Stratford on Avon). While most of these soliloquies will likely be hastily written in the hours between 2 and 4am (like many of my elementary school- high school-college papers) I hope that you come to read and enjoy them.
Ps. I would like to apologize to all of my former teachers and professors reading this, feel free to add red ink as needed.