My paper's four-fifths done; or, why the star-chart policy should never have been discontinued

So I fell like a ton of bricks and totally unexpectedly for David Boreanaz in Buffy the Vampire Slayer – seriously, how old am I, twelve? I am usually very unimpressed by these tormented vampires, and even though I liked Con in Sunshine I'd have definitely gone with Mel, given the choice, because he is serene and nice and would surely give up his motorcycle if I asked him very sweetly. But anyway I have a big crush on Angel, and what with that and Joss Whedon's being generally brilliant, I have been watching a lot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer over the past few days. Hence the no posting at all. I kept justifying it to myself by being all, Oh, I'll just watch it while I'm studying for logic or my classical studies class, and then when I'm done with that, I'll turn it off; but what happened was that the studying would turn out to take much longer than I had anticipated and then I wouldn't get to bed until two in the morning.

This weekend, however, it has been very important for me to get some work done. I have a lot of crap to do this weekend, like my paper for English, some other smaller papers for my other English class, an oral presentation preparation that includes watching a movie and reading a book, my federal and state taxes, a big batch of cookies, all my homework for next week, my personal statement that decides my whole future, a confirmation thing, and sufficient exercise at the rec center.

(It makes me tired just looking at all that stuff.)

Let's just say this was never, ever going to happen while Buffy the Vampire Slayer was around. It went into seven seasons, and my sister owns them all, and furthermore it spawned a spin-off show that is only about Angel, and that went into five seasons, and the public library owns them all. None of this is as good as Firefly, but whatever. If I had Buffy and Angel around this weekend, I imagine I would have done my taxes, the confirmation thing, maybe the exercise if I felt like it, and my homework for classical studies and logic, which I can do in front of the TV. The papers and the oral presentation work, not so much. The future-deciding personal statement, very very not so much. So I brought all of Buffy over to my house and gave it to my mum to hide from me.

And guess what? I've done – well, not four-fifths, two-thirds is a better estimate – of my long paper, made the cookies, read a whole bunch of Walden and written one of the three papers on it that I'm going to have to write, and gone to the rec center. And washed my hair.

When I was a little girl, and I did something naughty, my parents would take something away from me that I liked a lot, like desserts or movies or lying on my bed during the day, and I couldn't get it back until I'd been sufficiently good for a sufficient period. The Evil Things were called star-charts, and what they were, were these papers with each day broken down into morning, afternoon, evening, and bedtime, and for each time period that I was good, I got a little star in that spot on my star-chart; and if I got a prescribed number of stars in a row (say, seven or eight), then I got back the thing I liked a lot. It was an excellent incentive to behave well.

Giving Buffy to my mother is much like that. This English paper is not in fact due until like – I don't know, definitely not before Thursday of next week, so I could put it off for a long time, but as long as I haven't done it, I can't have the DVDs back. So I've written a ton of it today, and I promise you, it's not because of inherent scholastic devotion. I've just been cruising along writing paragraph after paragraph like a martyr of heavenly virtue, because I really, really, really want to get to watch Buffy some more.

As you can imagine, this is pretty humbling. I think of myself as a good student: I do well on tests, I write reasonably good papers that get reasonably good grades, and teachers write me favorable recommendations when I ask them to do so. But I have never gotten so much of a paper done in so short a time: I've been up since nine, in which time I've watched Oliver! (longish movie) and read some critical essays regarding Nancy's death (not very useful, as it goes), gone to the rec center and done a thorough workout, washed my hair, brainstormed a bit and invented a thesis, and written four pages of paper. All because I want to get Buffy back from my mum.

Plus, I was at my house yesterday, and it was kind of lame how soon I cracked. I gave my mother the DVDs and told her under no circumstances must she return them to me unless I could put my completed English paper in her hands; she hid them; and maybe, I don't know, maybe twenty minutes later I was already trying to convince her to give them back to me just for a little while.

I'm really not sure I deserve to live any longer. Robyn isn't even with me on this, and we usually share our tragic TV addictions. I feel so alone. I'm making a star-chart now.