gwendolyngrey | will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

I'm supposed to be finishing a paper for tomorrow right now. I WAS working on said paper, albeit grumpily, but my fingers and mind kept drifting away, and before I knew it I was writing something completely and thoroughly frivolous...I started simply typing what came into my head, and 'How Doth the Little Crocodile' soon was gracing my word page. Then my brain thought it would get cleverer, and parodied 'You Are Old, Father William' as, 'You Are Old, Father Soljan'. It made me feel better even though some of the lines were rather weak...it gave me hope that my brain could turn that mental energy into something more profitable, namely, 'The Paper That Is Due'. Alas, it was not to be...for here I am, although I will not subjigate my f-list to my poetic parody. I can only think of two people who might find it even remotely interesting for one must either like Soljan (my mythology prof) or like Lewis Caroll, or both. So do let's pretend I'm a hungry hyena, and you're a bone!

And I have a few words of good advice to impart before I retire to my loverly paper,
~Speak in French when you can't think of the English for the thing.
~Turn out your toes when you walk.
~Remember who you are!

Oh, and curtsy while you're thinking what to say, it saves time.