Productivity can be so bipolar sometimes.

There are days when productivity means getting a lot of homework done. You do your projects that are due for the next month. You study for every test you'll have for the rest of your life. You memorize the physiology of the brain until you can feel your dendrites and synapses and frontal lobes collapsing. Your grades shine like the top of the Chrysler building.

There are days when productivity means getting your visiting teaching done for this month. You make two batches of cookies, you prepare a great spiritual thought, you grab your roommate and walk across campus to get to the apartment of your visiting teaching sister, and you spend a half hour of quality time with her.

There are days when productivity means practicing the viola for six hours. Two hours of individual practice, orchestra here, stand partner practice there, and some more individual practice. You crawl into bed at the end of the day and you can't sleep because your fingers are bleeding and as a college kid, you didn't think ahead to bring the super glue from home that you so desperately need right now. Idiot. Every musician needs super glue.

And then there are days where productivity is getting out of bed in the morning, regretting it, grabbing a glass of water, and then crawling back into bed to watch Psych reruns for a couple of hours. Good thing I don't have any homework due on these days. Ever.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lizzie, who rolled out of bed, scooped herself a new bowl of cookie dough, slipped back under the sheets, and pressed play.

Bring it on.

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