Ramblings: Procrastination has no limits

It's been practically six months since I last hit the books and now the workload is a friggin' mountain. Just thinking about it makes me sick. I've been hovering around my books, lugging them around in my backpack, taking them with me for dinner. I even sleep with them. Why, you ask? Well, a friend of mine read this theory somewhere. When you put a piece of steel next to a magnet, over time, it becomes a magnet itself. Gets induced. Spend some time with your books, and you're bound to get induced too. In theory. After weeks of sleeping under a pile of books, I realize i'm not getting any smarter.

The next day, I tell him the induction thing isn't working for me. He smiles knowingly. "You’ve been using those short books," he says, as if that's supposed to make any sense.

"Oh... and I thought it was because I used paperbacks," I say, playing along. I've started to realize just how absurd the whole idea was. I mean, if magnet creates magnet, book creates BOOK! I feel so stupid. He has it all wrong and I-

"Nah, paperbacks work better," he says, disrupting my train of thought.

Oook, that’s new... "So what's wrong with short books?" I ask, before my bewildered expression prompts him into explaining this new tid bit. This whole concept goes way over my head and I could do without diving into the complexities.

"Well it's quite basic. A stronger magnet induces much quicker than a smaller, weaker magnet. Similarly, the bigger the book, the quicker it'll induce you to study." He gives me five minutes to work this out. I'm still trying to figure if I want to be a book for the rest of my life, when he asks, "Got it?"

"Kinda. Just haven't decided how many pages I want to have.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m on board with the whole becoming a book thing. It doesn’t seem too bad. I mean, I hardly ever go out, and I could finally be of some help. And after all, books are your best friends.” Saying it out loud actually convinces me. It feels good, making such a mature decision. I mentally pat myself on the back. Then I reach back and do it for real. Wait ‘til I tell mum. She’d be so proud!

My friend’s hysterical. He wears an expression that says “You just puked all over me.” Then it quickly warps into one that says “You ACTUALLY meant it when you said your favorite book is ‘Green eggs and Ham’?”  At times, he has such confusing expressions.

“What the heck, man? Pages? Become a book? I mean, wh- how can you pos- no, I-I completely lost you there,” he says, in an I-DID-NOT-watch-Star-Trek tone punctuated with notes of hysteria.

“It’s, like you’d say, quite basic. If magnet creates magnet, book creates book. I get the concept,” I explain, in a Klingon-is-universal tone. 

I glance over at him. His face seems all wrong. Like pixels breaking up on a TV screen. One of his eyebrows looks like it’s doing the Harlem Shake. I get the urge to add, “Of course, I had some reservations. OBVIOUSLY. But then the pros outweighed the cons, like I won’t need to worry anymore about getting a job, recession, crime rate, school, what happens in the next season of Supernatural… you know what? I’m starting to understand why more and more kids go missing each day. The worries of their lives force them to take drastic decisions, to escape this harsh, cold world.  Decisions like turning into books.”

Now I give him five minutes to work it out. He takes three.

“I am so not telling you about ANY new theories I come across,” he says finally. He reaches into his backpack and takes out an apple. “Now listen carefully. See that dirt on the ground?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens if i drop the apple into the dirt?”

“Umm... nobody eats it?”

“And?”

“It rots?”

“It gets dirty, goddamnit!”

“Oh, right! Dirty apple. Sorry!”

“Now let’s say you’re the apple. The books are dirt. You surround yourself with books, you’re bound to learn something from ‘em. So you’re still human, but one with knowledge. Just like a dirty apple is dirty, yet it’s still an apple. Following?”

“Yeah. Now I get it!” I flash him a smile.

“Thank God for that!” He says, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Just one thing.”

I hear my friend cracking his knuckles. “Uhuh.”

“When I become a book, what’s gonna be it’s title?”

***

Don't try this at home! :O

P.S.: If none of this made sense to you, that's because it wasn't supposed to. :D

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NH