The Logue of Thomas P.T. Lawrence.

There is nothing more satisfying then coming across something that absolutely blows your mind. It could be an amazing movie, an enticing book, hell - even a person. But when you do find that thing, something that so incredibly blows your expectations of it out of the water, that initial feeling of utter disbelief that leaves you speechless, repeating the same dumb expressions over and over again, that feeling is to be treasured.

So, with time to kill, and money too; what better way to satisfy ones pompous university-attending pretention than going to see a play ?


The Logue of Thomas P.T. Lawrence: 'An absurd comedy with Gothic elements'; The gardener thinks he is the maid, the maid thinks she is the butler, the butler thinks he is a dog and a stick appeared to be the gardener whilst an orphan child sat in a wardrobe grinning creepily... No, in my attempts to think of some way to possibly convey the plot to someone who had not witnessed the thing first hand, I am at a complete loss. Enter playbill synopsis: "While living in a tiny house covered in blackberries, Mr Thomas P.T. Lawrence, a fanciful writer who enjoys talking to a black berry her has grown in a pot, receives a letter informing him that he has inherited a manor from a recently deceased uncle whom Thomas never knew existed. But when Thomas arrives at the manor there is something amiss with the servants who appear to be in the grips of a peculiar melancholia and nostalgic ritual.
Believing that there is more than mere melancholia at work, Thomas endeavours to discover the meaning behind the madness, expounding his thoughts in a dialogue with his pot-plant bramble."

This truly is the most absurd comedy I've ever been witness to, but it is done so well. Dann Barber (director and Thomas Lawrence) delivers just over 2 hours of thick dialogue, two thirds of which are monologue, without dropping a word. Brilliant acting from the rest of the cast and excellent original music being played live, in the background of the magnificent set uphold the eerie mood that carries through the play. Words cannot fully express how much of a delight this gem of a play was, and how fortunate I was to have stumbled upon it accidental while on the search for something else.

Well worth my $20, and with a lovely reminder of the play via cameos from the creepy orphan child plaguing my dreams for the night.

Imagine None of This is Real.

We all do it, no one talks about it, and there is a looming feeling of guilt that exists around it, and lingers long after it has occurred.
Oh procrastination, the elephant in the room, without you, of course, my work would be done on time as opposed to several hours before it's due, but life would be so dull without that thrill. Believe it or not though, there IS a way to do it correctly; that is the best way to procrastinate with minimal guilt feeling attached. How, you may ask ? Well, come closer, gentle viewer, and we shall see.

Do a crossword.
Because there's nothing more satisfying figuring out that "10, across: incendiarism, 5" is synonymous with "ARSON" (-thank you Harry Potter for sharpening up my Latin/derivative English skills).
Cryptic crossword: +5 satisfaction , -5 patience
*Bonus educational benefits that definitely make you feel more productive than if you were to, for example, watch a movie.

Watch a movie.
Convince yourself that the movie you're watching is a secondary resource. If you're doing physics, watch Watchmen or Iron Man; General science: Flubber or Nutty Professor; Literature: Any adaptation of something famous. Genius. You can also expand this concept to television series, but these can go either way. The episodes are short enough if you're planning on getting back to your work in due time, however, the lengthy story line can entice you to watch the next episode, then the next and the next, and 3 and a half hours later, you're drained and have wasted far more time than originally planned (= bad)

Bake something.
This one doesn't have much reasoning behind it. Food is good. Food is yummy. Food goes down into my tummy.

And so, when you find yourself eight days past the deadline of your work, there are only two options left: Get cracking, or

Fake your death.
Preferably choose a 'lost in the wilderness/presumed dead' option, rather than a fiery death, because dental forensics has come leaps and bounds in the last century, and the lack of a body to bury from disappearing in the mountains/amazon/bush etc etc. always leaves you the option to return to the world after a substantial amount of time has passed and the work due has been long forgotten.


Or you could always write a blog entry, as I am now doing instead of a 2000 word essay. BOOYAH.