Peter Rabbit is a Stupid Book

I don't really think Peter Rabbit is a stupid book.  But I really do compulsively listen to "The Book Report" from You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown when I'm running into difficulties with paper-writing.  And right now, I'm having difficulties with paper-writing.  Probably I'm just running dry.  I've written twenty-seven pages since Sunday.  I've only changed out of my flannel sleepy-time pants once.  I'm about 1,500 words from finishing the semester.  And my brain wants to shut off.

So, this song.  The best part is, the song is perfect for all stages of paper-writing.

First, I'm Charlie Brown: "If I start writing now when I'm not really rested it could upset my thinking which is no good at all, I'll get a fresh start tomorrow and it's not due to Wednesday, so I'll have all of Tuesday, I should start writing now." And "How can they expect us to write a book report of any quality in just two days?  How do they conspire to make life so miserable, and so effectively, in so many ways?"

Then I'm a mix of Schroeder and Linus, wanting to write about something fun that's only loosely connected to the topic I should write on ("It reminded me of Robin Hood!") or wanting to analyze the topic from a standpoint that I'm pretty sure my professor is not going to like so much and/or that will be very difficult to write about effectively ("I plan to discuss the sociological implications of family pressures so great as to drive an otherwise moral rabbit to commit acts of thievery which he consciously knew were against the law.").

Right now, though, I'm Lucy: "Peter Rabbit is a stupid book about a stupid rabbit who steals vegetables from other people's gardens. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-sixteen-seventeen.  Hmm. Eighty-three to go!"

Except, for the moment, put all of this in the context of the British 1790s, Lyrical Ballads, and Coleridge.