Right now I am sitting here typing, with the tv on in the background and I am feeling very tired. I think this is because I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night. Why didn't I get enough sleep, you ask. Well I don't know. I usually go to bed sometime before eleven, or sometime right before twelve and sometimes after twelve. I guess you could say between 11 and 12, right? Yeah. And I start my day somewhere around 7:30. That is NOT NEARLY enough sleep. But what's funny is this is the only time of day when I feel really lethargic: around 5 or six o clock. Maybe it is biological. Maybe we all feel tired at certain points according to our bodies. I think there should be a law that we all have to take siestas in the afternoon like they do in Mexico. That seems glorious. Not to mention it's good for you! You are more refreshed and able to handle tasks more efficiently and with more energy. Even as I type I can feel myself drifting off. Do not fall asleep. Do not fall asleep.  Oh great. I pressed a wrong key and now the time started over. I had two minutes of typing under my belt. That's beautiful, just beautiful!!! I think I will just sit here and make up for that time. Doop de doop. Doop de dooooop. . . . . . Well, I'm very glad it's Friday tomorrow. Not that it makes much of a difference, but still. I can sleep in on the weekend, that's a big deal to me. I'm not sure what I'll do with the weekend. Probably catch up on reading for classes. I'm really concerned about that. I've been slacking off a bit and that's just awful, classes have only been in session for what, just two weeks or something. Yuck. I'm such a procrastinator. Well, I don't know what else to talk about. This is boring and I'm getting bored just doing this because I'd rather be napping. Not to mention the clock says only 3 minutes and I KNOW the true time should be somewhere around five!!!! Here, this is entertainment. I will type out a poem completely from memory. Ladies and gentlemen, The Road Less Traveled by Robert Frost: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth then took the other as just as fair and having perhaps the better claim because it was grassy and wanted wear though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same and both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black oh I saved the first for another day yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubt if I shall ever come back I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. What a beauty of a poem, no? I've always liked it. Don't remember why I had to memorize it. probably for a class way back in middle school. Some people have told me they don't understand the last line. I just feel secret annoyance towards them. What's there not to understand?! It's clear as a bell, people!   I like Robert Frost. Here's another one I know called Fire and Ice: Some say the world will end in fire Some say in ice From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire but if it had to perish twice I think I know enough of hate to say that ice is also great and would suffice  I also like Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening, the one that ends "And miles to go before I sleep. " Yep. Also that poem called Nothing Gold Can Stay. Why do I know so much about Robert Frost you ask?! Heck you got me. I don't even know. I just think his poems are nice. What other poets do I like. That's a good question. I have no idea. Well, that's probably not true, but I can't think of any at the moment. In Decathlon in school we studied lots of poems, by Langston Hughes and Sylvia Plath and Robert Frost (a really bad one, though) and George Meredith and lots of other peeps. Some of them were cool, some were most definitely not. I think I will write a poem of my own, right here, right now. I call it "The Cat Came Home". The Cat came home and he thought he was there to stay but what he didn't know was that the owners had moved away They left the lights on They left dishes in the sink The Cat came home and in a swift minute didn't know what to think Should I stay or should I go The Cat asked himself that day What should I do about this What should I say? Well The Cat found no answers just an empty litter box So he said, Eh who cares and tore up all the socks  Maybe I should get that one published!  Well my time is almost up thank goodness, so I should think of an appropriate end to this free writing assignment, a summation if you will. This was mainly about poems and poets and the unsolved mystery of why I don't get enough sleep. Yep, that's all. Nothing too exciting. And what do you expect. There is absolutely nothing worthwhile on TV at this moment.