A prime candidate for hypnotism

So, here I am, in the computer lab at the U of A and something occurs to me. I am sitting in the computer lab on a FRIDAY night trying to get papers typed for Monday. geesh. What a life, huh?
I've been here for about an hour and I've only managed to type 100 words on one paper and 4 words on the other. My clothes would never be called fashionable. They serve a purpose. That's it. I haven't bothered with makeup and my hair, while perhaps once neatly done, is now merely pulled back from my face in a clip. Straggles are tucked behind my ears. I look like death warmed over. My eyelids are so heavy that I'm struggling to keep them open and people who walk by me shiver with fright and walk a little faster. I don't care, though. The very fact that they are walking by me means that, like me, they also don't have lives. Sad for them, really. I'm getting hungry, but acknowledging that means that I have to pack up my stuff, walk up the stairs, go outside and across the mall and pray that the Union is still open. Too much energy required for that. I have some smushed granola bars in my bag. That'll do. My mind keeps drifting from one topic to the other, and the screen on the computer follows. Paper on immigration in germany. Paper on growing up during WWII. Email. Song lyrics for what's currently playing on my MP3 player. Paper on WWII. Email. Yahoo! games. The games don't last long. I'm not able to concentrate long enough to play.

Eventually, I think, it will all become a huge blur and I won't know what goes where. Come Monday, I will turn in two papers, yes. One will be about growing up during WWII, with the lyrics to "Sweet Home, Alabama" inserted in the middle. That should be interesting to grade. The other might make it out in better shape than that, but I fear that I'm just giving myself false hope. It will probably contain a reply to an email.

It's cold down here. Arizona's funny that way. Or, at least, Tucson is. The minute the temperature outside goes above 80, they crank the coolers way up (or is it down? I never know.) as if that will combat the heat outside. You freeze outside during the winter and bake inside. You bake outside during the summer and freeze inside. Well, I guess that means you get well done.

My train of thought has derailed. It wasn't going very fast, anyway. I'm now wearing my jacket. It seems silly to carry a jacket around in Tucson in April, but I know that in a few minutes I'll be wishing I had gloves too. I've just noticed that I can see outside from here. I thought I was underground. Apparently not. It will probably be dark in another 10-15 minutes. And I zone out again, strangely captivated by the red exit sign hanging on the other side of the room. The Goo-Goo Dolls sing. I know the words to this song. No need to look them up. My mind flips back to the paper on WWII. I guess my computer screen should follow.