Busy

Lo siento, mis compadres.  I've been slaving away in the non-Internet world of school and Battlefield 3 (first world problems are the worst), and therefore haven't had the time or the inclination to sit down and blog.  Also, I've been adding a lot to my book and I wanted to focus all my writing energies on it, so blogging sort of took a backseat this month.

Ironic reference, or racist?

However, the stupid part of me that wants to be responsible pulled a Rosa Parks and brought the issue to the front of my mind.  So I'm back, and I'll try not to be away so long again.  Okay?  Okay.  So, is there a topic I need to write about or...wait, I got it!

Cue the hipster light bulb.

Let's take the opportunity to keep on the title topic (I hate the word titular) (you know why) and talk about what happens when we perceive ourselves as 'busy'.  When I procrastinate and wait until 10:30 to start a mountain of homework, I'll tell people I was 'busy' the entire afternoon and had to stay up until 3 AM.  I could very well have done my school crap earlier and had time to write a clever little post on this deserted blog, but I'm lazy and self-entitled and I don't want to believe that I sit around doing nothing most of the time.  And yes, I basically just admitted that I could've blogged a lot more.

What else do we send to the back of the proverbial bus that is our attention span?  Work?  Family?  I understand this is more serious than my other posts; however, life gets serious, and I thought I'd kick your guilty conscience in the groin before someone you care about does.  You're welcome.

I got real with y'all, now it's time to examine your own priorities.  If you're too afraid to own up to yourself, get on your knees and tell your Father the issues you have.  He won't judge, and it can only help.  I'll leave you at that, my broskis.

Stay colorful,
                     Meimei