Weekend? What Weekend?

So the answer to Friday's "I wonder what time I will start writing my paper" turned out to be....

5pm on Saturday.

I know. I know.

Friday night I settled in to get to work... and proceeded to stare blankly at the computer screen for the next two hours. Half-formed ideas would flit into my head, yet each time I attempted to synthesize them into coherent sentences they would flit right back out again. After 2 hours of sporadic, frustrated typing I was left with two paragraphs of complete garbage, including the sentence: "Critical theory is fucking complex." Right. So I decided to pack it in and try for an early start on Saturday.

Saturday I awoke at a reasonable hour and while drinking my coffee it occurred to me that I would not have another free weekend day until the second weekend in November (if I'm lucky), and as such it would probably behoove me to do laundry while I had the chance.

Note: Laundromat is empty at 11:30am on a Saturday. Excellent time to do laundry.

Once laundry was done I once again sat in front of my computer and while the ideas in my head were somewhat more well-formed than those of the previous evening, I was still producing absolute drivel. Rather than beat my head against the keyboard in frustration (though the prospect was awfully tempting), I opted to call my parents for a pep talk.

They performed their given task marvelously, as well as providing a welcome distraction and a sounding board for my bitching about the fact that our topic was so ridiculously broad one could write a dissertation on it, yet we were confined to 7 measly pages--and, as good parents will do, around 4:30 they told me to stop screwing around and go write the damned paper already.

So I did. As predicted, once I actually managed to start writing, it took just under 3 hours. Cake really. Don't get me wrong, it still needs a bit of editing, but the bulk of the work is done. Hooray!

Today was another installment of my 8 hour class--and another 8 hours in the same room with Maybe Crush (who, incidentally, also stared blankly at his computer screen for hours while attempting to write the same paper), which proved to be every bit as distracting as the last 8 hours. Some day soon I am going to totally lose control and just pounce on the boy, I swear.

However progress is slowly being made. Today there was conversation! Both in a group and between the two of us. And he offered to loan me a DVD. Now the question is: will he remember said offer and bring it to class tomorrow? (Damn I have a lot of classes with this boy!) And if he remembers, is it because he was thinking about me, or just because he has a good memory?

Damn, sometimes being a girl is annoying.

I occasionally wonder what would happen if he somehow managed to stumble across this blog. While I've kept identifying info to a minimum, he'd probably look at some of this and think "hmmm... this sounds awfully familiar..." Gad, how embarrassing would that be?? And did I just say "gad"? Yikes...

I am doing my best to enjoy the tortuously slow progress of my infatuation, for as my friend B would say: I am in deep smit. Yet the questions remains, which of the three potential outcomes seems most likely?

a. I will eventually lose interest;
b. I will eventually express my interest and be awkwardly rejected; or
c. I will eventually express my interest and learn (much to my surprise) that it is reciprocated.

Considering my personal history, I think either a or b is more likely to occur; but I'm holding out hope for c. Really, who says you can't be a cynic and a romantic at the same time?