The writing process is a hard one for me. Whether an essay or blog post, I sit thinking in my head of where to begin. Once the wheels start grinding in my head, I can pick up steam and plow into my work. But sometimes, "for fun", I decide to write about my frustrations out of sheer boredom. One day while working in the library I had an encounter with another student that I wrote about right after she left. While cleaning up my hard drive today I found what I had written (and saved for some reason) and thought I'd share a bit of randomness from my mind - what else is a blog good for?

I leaned my head back against the wall behind my cramped corner desk and started back at the flashing cursor on the still blank page open on my notebook computer. Maybe if I scrunch my eyes together tight enough a great opening line for this paper will pop out from the pressure? I tried it. Nope, still nothing. Damn that cursor! It’s as if it became my third grade teacher, Mrs. Ferguson, tapping her pointy-toe heel shoes on the ground as her patience with me grew thinner while she hovered over me when I was trying to figure out my multiplication tables. The more impatient she got, the faster she tapped. And at this moment I could swear that the cursor started to speed up its own intolerant flashing.

After all, how hard was it to write a judicial reasoning paper on the principles, rules and policies used by the High Court to decide on establishing a tort of individual and corporate privacy?

Frustrated at my slow beginning on my paper, I closed my laptop and leaned forward, shutting my eyes, to rest my head on top.

I stayed in that position about ten seconds before an airy, high-pitched voice drifted towards me.

“Helloooooo” it called.

Oh no. Here she is to ask about the progress of my paper. My nonexistent paper. I can get away with lying for about thirty seconds before she sees through my fake drivel. And then her self-praising air will kick start to choke me. How well can I fake a migraine?

"Done yet hmmm?" she asks me, smirk already plastered on her face.

"No, not all the way yet, I was just --"

"Reallyyy? I just have to write my conclusion! I think most people are struggling, but honestly I don't see the big deal. It was actually pretty easy. Maybe I could help you, what are you having trouble with?" she asked batting her lashes and smoothing her auburn hair - probably to keep her devil horns from popping out.

"Actually, you didn't let me finish," I said, taking a deep breath trying keep my voice steady and convincing. She was not going to put down another student. I will not stand for it anymore - procrastinators and the confused have some pride and dignity to maintain. "I haven't finished all the way because I'm just editing my final draft." I try imitating her smirk, but I think it's come out lopsided and too happy. But her reaction was gold.

"You're finished?!" she sputters, mouth agape.

"Yeah," I reply coolly, "just yesterday. I took my time with it and you're right, it wasn't hard at all. The prof said I was on the exact track he was looking for when I showed him this morning". My lies were surprising even me.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied my face, searching for a glimpse of untruth. "Well, what did you write for the main analysis of Justice Kirby then? Everyone I talked to is stuck there"

"Oh that, yeah that wasn't so bad, as I'm sure you found, but since the prof said I was write, I'd rather not go into it since you're not done your essay and I am. But come back and see me when you're ready and we can discuss it" I say, smiling and sweetly as I can while trying to stifle a laugh.

"Oh. Oh, well okay then. Yeah, we'll talk then" she falters, turning around and walking away with a quick glance over her shoulder.

Good thing she didn't catch me sticking my tongue out at her. Now about this damn paper...