Joan

I'm presently supposed to be immersed in churning out my next 2 assignments....I've never pretended to enjoy theories but now I REALLY know that it's not my cuppa tea! You have my utmost admiration if you are a theorist or theorem-lover!

And as per usual, when one should be concentrating on (boring) academia, odd things seem to pop to mind! Perhaps this confirms that I am not an academic either...

The following poem is dedicated to Joan - an entirely fictitious persona who has been unfortunate enough to be chosen as the brunt of psychosocial and developmental analyses.

(Please note, that any relation or similarities to any real Joans, are purely accidental and totally unintentional!)

They say her name is Joan
I think of her and groan
I shouldn’t use this tone
But I just want to moan!

She makes our job so tough
I think I’ve had enough
Her life is just so rough
She’s really up the duff.

She’s spawned so many theories
She has so many worries
Her life, a string of flurries
Could do with some good curries!

I’m finding theorems boring
My books I should be poring
Assignments, I’m ignoring
My dinner, I am thawing.

I’m glad Joan is fictitious
Her life is just so vicious
I’ll write something officious
And make it sound delicious!

My books I can’t postpone
I think I’ve done my drone
My thoughts I have to hone
Back onto poor old Joan.