T-12 pages and counting

Well, the good news is that I got my 6 pages written for tonight, and am thus halfway done with this ordeal.

The bad news is that I'm running out of things to say, and I'm only halfway done.

This isn't as bad as it could be-- I still have the intro and conclusion to write, and the massive reorganization I have to do will most likely generate at least a few pages. I just have to shift gears a little bit and do the reorganization tomorrow, so that I can cobble together a second, smaller paper if it turns out that I can't stretch this one long enough.

I was at the Fishbowl for more than 8 hours straight tonight, and I didn't cheat on AIM at all. I'm almost as proud of that as I am of the fact that I hit my page quote two nights in a row.

My computer sounds obscenely loud now that I don't have John Mayer blocking out all background noise.

Walking home tonight, it looked like a desert outside. But cold.

Erm. I got nothin, folks. Me go kathunk now.

2 more days of this. Oy.

*kathunk*

*G'sigh*

After a completely unproductive nap in which I spent an hour lying wide awake in the dark listening to the wheels spinning uselessly in my head, I just ate dinner (mmm... Jimmy John's...) in an empty classroom with a hard copy of my paper draft, tearing it to shreds. Er. The paper, not the sandwhich.

It doesn't look good.

This is quite possibly the least organized paper I have ever written. Generally when I'm writing, my thoughts kind of naturally coalesce into some kind of logical order, and with a little tweaking I can usually come up with something that makes some kind of structural sense. That is not, by any stretch of the imagination, the case here--I don't know if it's too big or what, but my thoughts are just scattered everywhere--multiple topics in single paragraphs, ideas brought up, incompletely discussed, dropped, and then picked up again a few pages later. It's a mess.

Also, this is supposedly a paper about Wordsworth and Peter Pan, but I hardly bring up Wordsworth at all unless I'm quoting someone else talking about him. I quote secondary sources more than my primary sources, and frequently leave quotes hanging naked with no analysis or explanation to back them up.

I have no idea at this point what my argument is, or if I even have one.

To a certain extent, this is good, because it means that I have a lot more to add to this despite running out of new ideas to talk about. Betweeen the restructuring that desperately needs to be done, the transitions I'll need to add between paragraphs and sections, the analysis of Wordsworth, the explanation of quotes, and the extensive intro and concluding material I still need to write, I'll probably be able to come close to doubling what I have.

But... oh, God, the prospect of all that work is just exhausting. So much to do before I let myself sleep tonight, and so much more than that before I can sleep tomorrow. I fully expect to see the sun rise from the Fishbowl on Friday morning before this thing's done.

It's not that I think I'm incapable of getting everything done in time, it's just... so much, you know? I'm tired already, and it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Just think, someday I'll look back on this and think it was the best time of my life.

*sigh*

Okay. Here goes nothin'. Wish me luck, kids, I'm gonna need it.

EDIT: I forgot to mention this before, but while I was sitting here writing this entry, some random guy came up to me and asked me if I was an English major. When I said yes, he asked me to proofread his paper for him. Um. WTF? Do I just have that literature nerd look about me or something? I didn't even have my paper open yet, or any books out. Weird. That'll teach me to not spend every waking second of my time in the Fishbowl with my headphones on, exuding an aura of total obliviousness to the world around me.

*buries head in hands*

I am in hell.

Having scribbled all over my first version of this draft, marking the basic points I was trying to make in each paragraph, I constructed a very rough outline delineating a basic order for my ideas. Then I made the mistake of rearranging the content I had to reflect that order.

I now basically have 20 paragraphs that bear no apparent relation to one another. I've been trying to move bits and pieces around and add transitions so that I have some kind of continuity, but it's not working at all and I now feel like my brains are leaking out of my ears. I could do this for a 5 page paper, probably, but this is just too big. Nothing makes sense, any elegance my writing once had is completely destroyed by the now-bizarre juxtaposition of paragraphs, and I have the Headache of Death.

I want to cry. I want to give up. I want to curl up in someone's lap and not move until April.

Instead, I have to stay up all night attempting to beat some sense into what is now essentially 3200 words thrown together in no particular order.

Fuck.

I am this close to throwing a couple of pages of intro and conclusion onto what I started with, writing another random 6-ish page paper, and taking the shitty but passing grade that Prof. Levinson would probably give me out of pity.

I just... don't know how much more I can put into this without throwing my hands up in defeat.

"At least you have legs."

*deep breath*

Okay. New plan.

Go through original draft, add transitions and analysis, write extended intro and conclusion. Tweak what I have, but no more attempts at major restructuring.

I refuse to stay here past 3AM tonight. If by that point it looks like I'll be able to sustain this for more than 20 pages, fine, I'll get this to a reasonable state of doneness tomorrow and turn it in. If not, I'll get it to a reasonable state of doneness tonight, then cobble together an extra 5 pages tomorrow on... something.

This is my last semester here. I'm writing an honors thesis. One crappy grade will not be the end of the world.

This class is not worth losing my sanity over.

Fuck it.