Christmas is here. At least they say so. Felt like I just got here. Feels like it is still September. Feels like Rudolf is far far away with santa and the gang on some pacific island still. Do they even make it to Mehhiicco?
Today is first of Advent. I have Xmas deck'ed my room here. Tiny lights, red glitter balls and four plasticish synthetic smelling candles on a plate that is kind of supposed to be an Adventsljusstake. People laugh at me. But how are we supposed to get oriented and set on Xmas mode if December, like here, just feels like an awful lot of exams, goodbyes and some Piñatas in between on a normal jeans and long sleeve tshirt day?
First of Advent. Queeee? No entiendo nada. When did this happen? And why do I have so awful incredibly lot to do now?
The answer is a long and kind of pleasant-scary word:
Procastination.
Like a very wise mexican once said, procastination is just like masturbation. Kind of satisfying and feels quite good for a while, but in the end you realize you're just f*cking yourself.
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