Counting toads, dresses and glass bottles

I suppose it comes from not developing better study habits as a child.

Do I blame Mother for this? Flashback. Im 7 years old, in the second grade and eager [scary child that I was] to do my homework. Something along the lines of maths mentals and basic english skill textbooks comes to mind, oh bright coloured covers how I miss thee!

Mother's input: "Great film this was, fond memories.." *sighs contently* And that dear friends, would be the end of that. I would watch the film / tv show and homework was left till the morning before when I could rush through it and still whoop serious 2nd grader butt.

*Glee*

But really I think the habit building [ or non building] occurred earlier than that. Distinctly remember reading borrowed books and eyeing homework wistfully, thinking with all my 1st grade innocence that since it was so easy I could do it later and still be okay. Not until grade 6 did I realise the point of homework: to challenge and reiterate things we had learnt in class. Sadly, I had a slow attention span in class, only ever heard two-fifths of whatever was discussed / explained.

Homework to me had always been the teacher's way of giving us that day's lesson on paper. This way, if I didnt pay attention in class it didnt matter. When I got home, there it was! On paper! In textbooks! To be read, understood and enjoyed at my leisure. Bit late by the 6th grade to alter this whole mind set, not to mention get my head around the actual aims of homework: torture. Specially designed for little people under the age of 16.

And I wonder where my problem lays. Clearly, these habits must be broken.

Have procrastinated a lot today, but tomorrow shall see GMan recieve my first chapter, and I want to be happy with it. Proud of it, even. Maybe even a little too proud?

That might have to come later.

*Le sigh*

On the topic of le sigh, have picked that up from JaJa Binks : similar to her taking over of my dear oh dear moments [taken from Edward].. Friends, such a tradition of verbal exchanges is what binds us. Wicked last night was pretty...Wicked. It blew my expectations, which weren't sky high, but definitley tree branch high. Elphalba was played brilliantly! The others were great too, but Elphie took the cookies and cream from everyone's cake by far. The ending was happified. Fieryo and Elphie are shown to dance [skip?] off into the sunset together.. which some thought needn't have happened.

Me? I like happy endings. As MJ well knows, I begin to melt like the Wicked Witch from Oz when a film ends in depressing or cliffhanger-y ways. I like to go home /to bed / wherever knowing the characters have learned a lesson, found some peace and or are smiling and looking to the future with a grin. Or teary eyes. Either works.

There are exceptions to this, that shall be discussed later. For now, Thessy requires serious slayage.

Today's muddle: When does one outgrow discovering new modes of procrastion?