Fitting in with the misfits, living in the lost and found

So today is the day that I meet with both my thesis advisor and my new professor for my thesis seminar, and explain to them, preferably without sounding like a complete jackass, that I have made next to no progress since break.

I really don't know what my problem is. I have less than two weeks at this point to write the Enlightenment paper from last semester, and I haven't so much as thought about what I'm going to do. If I don't finish, I get an E for that course. I haven't failed a class since Algebra II in 11th grade, and I'll be damned if I'm going to fail one in my major; so why did I spend last night at the Daily with Aubrey, watching the next batch of no talent American Idol wannabes and making fun of the State of the Union (the close-up of Senator Rick "frothy mixture of fecal matter and lube that sometimes results from anal sex" Santorum when Bush was talking about the Defense of Marriage Act was priceless) when I should have been anklecuffed to a computer in the fishbowl, furiously trying to get something accomplished so I don't look like an asshat when I meet with my thesis advisor for the first time in a month?

I hate this. I know that I tend to lose motivation toward the end of the year, and that's multiplied tremendously when I'm about to graduate. It happened in eighth grade, and it happened my senior year of high school. You'd think that knowing about it in advance would have made it easier to head it off at the pass, but really it just increased the feeling of inevitability, the feeling that I couldn't do anything to fix the problem anyway, so why even bother? Even right now, I'm too busy playing that inane yet shockingly addictiveYeti game and updating LJ instead of doing the Witchcraft reading I've barely dented.

Yes, today is definitely a March of the Sinister Ducks kind of day.

Wearing plaid jackets and horrible shoes,
Getting divorces and turning to booze,
Ducks, ducks! Quack quack! Quack quack!
Ducks, ducks! Quack quack! Quack quack!

Would you like some whine with that cheese? Strike that, reverse.

Today was one of those days. One of those Late-for-everything, missing-meetings, going-to-the-wrong-class-two-weeks-into-the-damn-semester, watch-breaking, unable-to-eat, not-enough-time-to-shower-because-I-ignored-my-alarm-again, pissy-uterus days. We are Not Amused. Luckily, I have my 3000+ iPod library on shuffle to keep me entertained. The musical juxtapositions have been awesome; I think my favorite sequence thus far was Me First and the Gimme Gimmes-->Ani DiFranco-->80s Madonna.

Sometimes I really wish I could just go to sleep and wake up, with thesis and incomplete work finished, in mid-April. I'd say late April, just in time for graduation, but then I'd miss Penguicon and that would be all kinds of suck.

As it is, the paper that I discovered on Monday was due two days later than I thought is now due tomorrow, and I have to come up with a reasonable chunk of thesis for workshopping on Wednesday, which means I actually have to e-mail it out on Monday. Damn you, Sara Blair, and your infernal insistence on submitting drafts ahead of time! Much as I'm dreading the awful job market ahead of me, I am really looking forward to being able to entirely forget about work as soon as I'm off the clock.

Tomorrow is my Day From Hell: Work 11-1, class 2:30-4 and 4-6, work 6-12. I might have to squeeze a make-up meeting with my thesis advisor in there somewhere, too. All I can say is that my uterus damn well better be behaving itself by then.

*deep breath*

I'm going to go to the Fishbowl.

I'm going to write my paper. During that time, I am not going to sign onto AIM or check my e-mail.

I'm just going to do my work and not think about anything else.

And maybe by the time I get back, everything will be okay again.