I spend too much time stressing about the stuff I've got to do and not enough actually doing. All this non-stuff-doing must stop forthwith. If I put my stuff on display here, then maybe I will find the motivation to actually do it. I can picture your eyes sliding across the text, your smirk as you find a particularly tough thing I have to do, perhaps chuckling a little when you see an exiting but demanding task, smug in the belief that I lack the will and the talent to complete it. I want to picture your annoyance when you come back in a few weeks and find that I've completed everything I said and then some.

So here, in no particular order, is some stuff I've got to do...

Uni stuff. (Can't bear to go into details. My brain will melt.)

House stuff. (Ditto.)

Writey stuff: The SF story I started yesterday. Poems. But most importantly I must find some new electronic thing and write an article about it; I must do this by the end of the week. For it has come to pass that your narrator has bitten the bullet and decided to head writing-wards. Hey, don't blame me. Sure, I experimented a little, back in my teens- who doesn't? Bad speculative fiction. Worse Goth poetry. Really terrible song lyrics. But I'd pretty much quit; just rolling the odd verse, y'know, when I needed to chill out. I could go months without even jotting down an idea. I was perfectly happy, chugging along in my little tech-geek groove, and then a few months ago, I fell in with a bad crowd.

Writers. Journalists. Poets. They all egged me on until, beaten down by the unbearable peer pressure, I caved in. Now I'm hooked again. I'm already planning articles for the trade journals, short horror stories, you name it. One of these day's I'll have made a start on a novel.

I know there's no hope for me now, but I pray that some young person reading this may profit from my example. To that young person I say: Run! Get out- while you still can!