If you're anything like me - an overworked, underpaid college student - you haven't done much but work, sit on your ass, watch television, and catch up on your sanity since the end of the semester. Now this was obviously not the intention as finals came to a close and I praised the universe for giving me the strength to make it to the end of the single most stressful few months of my life. Realistically I was excited to take advantage of the free time that had recently been held hostage by studying U.S. history, keeping up on contemporary issues in the media, and learning how to be a soulless PR professional. I was going to get back into great shape, write every day (I'm a journalism major, soon to be English lit.), do some pleasure reading, maybe get back into some painting and crafts, or come up with a new recipe. Ahh, how optimistic I was. While I have been working on a script a friend asked me to tackle (slowly but surely), I've been overwhelmed with the amount of goals I have yet to accomplish. It's been roughly two weeks and I haven't put myself on any exercise or health regimen, this is the first writing I've semi accomplished, I've done zero pleasure readying, painting, or crafts, and I sure haven't felt creative enough to invent a new recipe. Though I do still intend on mustering up the motivation to pursue the aforementioned, the fact that I haven't was really started getting to me. When I woke up I took that frustration to a search for freelance writing positions, and when I of course couldn't think of anything to write about, I got to thinking.