Putin on the Ritz

Today had no rhyme or reason. 

I woke up after the CREEPIEST DREAM IN THE WORLD. I dreamed that Putin forced me to go on a date with him. And then he tried to kiss me. Eww. Gross. Just no, no, no, no, no. 

plus 

equals 

НЕТ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

So, after that lovely dream, I was wondering what the day had in store for me. 

Luckily, no Russian despots tried to ask me out. Today, anyway. Which is always a plus. 

Instead, there were free bagels at the corner store. 

And it was 66 degrees today (on February 6th, people! February 6th!) 

And I gathered a slew of wonderful non-sequitur quotes from my Tolstoy professor. 

And my Russian history professor cried when he talked about the 1932-1933 famine in Ukraine. The Holodomoor. Death by starvation. 

So, lots of Russian stuff today. But Putin did not call. 

(Hallelujah.) 

My kind of study break

Little do my roommates know what I do when I'm home all alone and have just finished grading a bunch of papers.

I crank up my music on Spotify, and rock out. 

Like, hardcore, dance like no one's watching (because no one is), and singing "What Makes You Beautiful" to my reflection in the mirror as I practice dance moves.

 I. am. awesome.

To prove I'm right, I put it in a song.

Cookie Monster (also, why my sister should NOT be embarrassed by me)

Hi, my name is Megan, and I'm addicted to cookies.

It's a little bit of a problem.

But do you ever have those days when you just want to make cookies? Lots and lots and lots of cookies? That was tonight. Never mind that I just had delicious crepes and that I really didn't have a reason to make cookies. I just wanted to.

Although there could be a few reasons:

1) I'm leaving soon and won't have a chance to make cookies on-the-spur-of-the-moment for a really long time.

2) I'm just really happy tonight. And being happy is a reason to make cookies, I think.

Making cookies makes Evan happy, too. (He made this face after I told him to smile.)

Look! We made two kinds of cookies: scrumptious chocolate cream cheese cookies and delicious peanut butter chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.

 Nom nom nom nom nom. 

Aww, look. We are so cute. And we make supercalifragilisticexpialidocious cookies. (Also, spellcheck doesn't recognize supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. It wants me to say "imperialistic." Sorry, spellcheck, my cookies are not imperialistic. Not today, at least.) 

While we made cookies, Katy got ready for the high school's Sweetheart's Dance.

Look how pretty she is: 

  

And then we got to meet her date.

Aww, look. So cute. 

But I guess we were embarrassing them? What? Embarrass high school students getting ready to go to a dance? Who does that? 

But the thing was, we weren't even embarrassing. I mean, I was witty and helpful.

See? Look how helpful I was. I helped pin his boutonniere:

Also, photo win on my part. Look at my face. I am so intense. "I am going to pin on this boutonniere without stabbing him if it's the last thing I do!" 

But then, after all that witty banter and helpfulness and conquering evil (because boutonnieres really are evil sometimes), Katy still thought we were super-embarrassing. What did I even do? Katy, if you want embarrassing, then ask me what Dad said to my prom date senior year. Yeah. That was embarrassing. Poor kid. 

But me, embarrassing? Come on. There is no reason for my siblings to be embarrassed by me. 

Not even when I'm singing the "Total Eclipse of the Heart Literal Version" at the top of my lungs while making cookies. 

Nope, not even then. 

Sheesh. Why do my siblings think I'm embarrassing? 

I am cool, people. Cool. 

The Evolution of the Paper

Just a typical Thursday night research paper session . . .

Start out confident that you know the direction you want your paper to go:

Just happily typing away . . .

What to write next?

Hmm . . .

Oh yeah.

Typical writing game-face.

Bored.

Should I make cookies?

No, this paper's due tomorrow. Get back to work.

Crunch time.

Uh-oh. Writer's block.

More writer's block.

This paper is due in T minus 12 hours! Panic.

Despair.

Paper. I keel you.

And that's the part I am at right now. It's a scary picture, I know. But seriously, if these papers are going to be the death of me, I'm going to get them first.

And then, once the paper's done, I'll be happy again:

It's the circle of life.

(Guess who's procrastinating her papers! If you guessed Megan, then you guessed correctly! Ding, ding, ding, ding! But really, I'm almost done with one of my papers. Which is good. But now I get to do the whole cycle again with three other papers. Woot.)

Yes, it is 2:31 in the morning

. . . and yes, I am still awake. Maybe not wide awake, but awake enough.

I'm writing a paper and this is my study break.

There was a group of us in the living room for a little while. It was just my roommates and I, having a study party.

Only my roommates went to bed about two-and-a-half hours ago.

But I'm not alone.
I have my music, and I run around the kitchen every thirty minutes or so.
And I have peanut butter and chocolate. (Don't judge; it keeps me awake.)
And I have my papers and books scattered around the floor.

And I have my pride. There is something just a bit cool about pulling an all-nighter. (Okay, I'm crazy. I admit that. But it's 2:37 in the morning.) I've never done one before, except for that time I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows all night, refusing to go to sleep because then my sister would have taken the book from me.

But this is a kind of co-ed pride. I mean, every college student pulls an all-nighter at least once, right?

. . . and I'm still up, writing this paper.

And realizing that I want to change my entire focus. This should be fun.

On a happier note, I'm autumn makes me deliriously happy. I had a Marianne Dashwood moment today . . . I have a passion for dead leaves.

So, yes, I am drunk on autumn. . . . or maybe just drunk on lack of sleep.

Time to go back to my paper.