Measured Out in Coffee Spoons

Time keeps flying by ever faster as I approach my grad school deadlines, tightening down slowly to that asymptote where I have only the thinnest margains in which to measure out my remaining time. I don't know what happened to November, but it's gone. The absence of night terrors about small grey men and strange metal lumps dwelling underneath my skin isn't proof that I haven't been abducted by aliens, but somehow I think the guy in the New Age bookstore was off the mark on this one. Whatever the reason, I have no time to waste. There's too much I need to write and not enough time in which to write it.

In the meantime, I've been remiss in my blogging. It's not that I haven't had anything to write about. I have. But every time I sit down to blog, I start thinking about all of the crap I still need to get done, and I panic a little. To date, I have started and failed to write blog entries on the following:

• Two photo essays, one on what to do with two pounds of muscadine grapes that a friend happens to have growing on her back porch, and one on how to make my family ravioli.
• A review of The Fountain (which is very good, by the way, but only if you're prepared to turn off reason for a while and watch it with your dreaming brain) in which I was going to talk about time and acceptance and brilliantly unify these things into a single concept that would have blown your minds wide open across your kitchen's back wall, where all the world might have seen them.
• Endless observations, some witty, some merely whiny, about the process of applying to schools.
• An essay about the endless bits of wonder and small magic that I find in cities. Such as a basket of pears my girlfriend and I found attached to someone's house one day with a note instructing people to take as many as they wanted.
  
• A ton of generic entries about my everyday life that would have caught my friends (the only people I believe actually read this) and fans (who exist in my head, but don't tell me to burn things) up on what I've been up to.

So here I am, and for once, the act of procrastinating has intersected with the act of blogging and the two have unified into a kind of procrastiblog. That sound you hear is the fourth dimension tightening around me.