Spounce Away

Well, folks, it's finals week, beginning in exactly 1 hour and 13 minutes. (I considered providing you the exact seconds, as we all know how important precision is, but really: a line must be drawn.) In that hour and 13 minutes, I should grade 9 more student homework assignments, at roughly 20 minutes each. In that hour and 13 minutes, I should also finish 3 take-home essay prompts due tomorrow by 10 AM. (All right, I confess: when I say "finish," I really mean "start." And when I say "start," I really mean "read the questions.")

So what does the advent of finals mean for us "diligent student" types? Right when I should be putting my nose to the grindstone, pedal to the medal, my shoulder to the wheel, or what have you, what am I doing instead?

Why, creating a blog, of course. No longer am I on the outside of all that is Cool with a capital C in the early twenty-first century. No longer will I wallow and despair in my Luddite tendencies. No longer will I be denied the privileges of saying things like, "Something funny happened to me yesterday. You should read about it on my blog." (This, in my mind, is nearly the embodiment of modern hauteur, surpassed only by phrases like, "Have your people call my people." Ah, I aspire to the day when I can say--and mean--such a pretentious thing. Alas, with a Ph.D. in linguistics as the plan, this day is far from likely.) Yes, that's right, dear reader: I will now officially break into the ranks of the technocrati, and my new-blossoming blog can be the blog created this second. (That's the average rate of new blogs created. Were you aware?)

Of course, this Finals Week Procrastination (capitalized in the most magnificently Teutonic way, of course, as if such orthographic conventions might count as studying for my German final) is nothing new. During finals week last semester, Optimistic and I crafted the best Board response ever. During finals week the semester before that, I started and finished Les Miserables, a thick tome of a book. During finals week the semester before that, I started rereading the Old Testament, and got halfway into Numbers within three days.

So, essentially, I am obligated to start this blog, if only to maintain my own long-standing tradition of wasting time in fantastically obvious ways. This is no mere spouncing*, friends; this is squandering.

You all may resume your normal activities now. If your normal activites happen to involve squandering, or even just spouncing, I know a great game. If you're actually trying to get work done, you'll kill me for even mentioning the name, so I'll just hint at it: it starts with Sn-, and rhymes with "brood," and it's not "Snyood."

*spounce, v. To waste time in small amounts by doing various activities, none of them significant in themselves, like playing "just one more" game of Minesweeper, writing "just one more" email, or reading "just one more" blog entry. Etymology: semantic extension from "spouncer," a small craft tool, or "innovative stenciling sponge on a handle." (See above image.)