this is why i can't have nice things

It has recently come to my attention that I will turn 23 in less than a month. I shouldn't freak out... right? I mean... right? Fuck.

I want to say that my procrastination has reached epic levels, but there's a little thing called "freshman year" standing in the way. I think I've changed though, because I'm much less willing to feel sorry for myself or let myself be all dramatic about it. Things will get done eventually, and if they don't... fucking whatever man. I'm old now, I don't have to care if other people think I'm a lazy asshole who never finishes anything when she says she will.

In other news, this is Lenny. We met at Fort Tryon Park, and wow, Lenny caused far more trouble than you'd expect. He was hanging out on this out-of-the-way path, walking around, clucking and pecking at the dirt, as roosters are wont to do. I walked down some stairs so I could take a picture, and then I felt guilty about taking a picture and walking away, so I decided to call 311 (automated greeting--"Thank you for calling New York City"), mostly because I couldn't think of anyone else to call. They transferred me to Animal Control, and I swear to god, this is an unabridged transcript of said call--

Animal Control: Hello, Animal Care.
marina: Hi, I'm in Fort Tryon Park, and there's a rooster walking around--
Animal Care (?): We don't do roosters; you'll have to call Wildlife.
marina: Sorry, 311 transferred me to you, and there's this rooster...can you transfer me to them?
Animal Care: 311 doesn't know what they're doing. You'll have to call Wildlife yourself.
marina: Okay... well, can you give me the number?
Animal Care: No, you'll have to look it up in the yellow pages.
marina: What?! I'm in the fucking park! I can't look it up! What the hell is wrong with you?!? [etc]

I called 311 again and asked to be transferred to "Wildlife" but instead the operator took my information to send it to the parks department. When she asked for my phone number so they could call me to follow up, I finally figured out that poor Lenny was never going to get the help he needed. Why the fuck would I want them to call me to follow up on a "wildlife sighting"? It's a rooster! Come pick up the rooster before someone catches it and brings it back to the cock-fighting den it escaped from!! Poor Lenny is going to end up at the live poultry place on Amsterdam (La Granja!), I just know it. I'm sorry, Lenny. I would've brought you back to my apartment, but I think the cats probably would've killed you. Plus, you kind of smelled.