I am a failure at life.
Apr. 1st, 2004 01:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grammargirlBrainfreeze.
As of tomorrow, my Joyce paper will be a week late. I can't go talk to my professor about what a hard time I'm having, because the last time I didn't have the stupid thing when I said I would (this would be yesterday), I made up some dumbass excuse about having run out of my printing allocation, and could I have my roommate print it out for me and turn it in on Thursday? Oh the tangled webs we weave, and all that.
I don't know what's wrong with me. 4-5 pages should NOT be this hard to produce. This is farking Ulysses, for crying out loud-- I should be able to flip to a completely random page and be able to generate 4-5 pages about it.
And this isn't just me not wanting to write the paper at this point. I want to write the fucker, turn it in, not have to think about it anymore. But now I've built it up so much in my head that it's like I get a short circuit every time I try to start. I'm supposed to be handing this thing in in 14 hours (really, I need to be done in about 10 hours since I have to work at 11:00) and I have literally nothing written except the heading at the top of the page. My excuses are running really thin here-- what am I supposed to say tomorrow, "Gee, John Whittier-Ferguson, I know I told you that all I had to do was print out this paper, but in fact I have not even started yet, and I was wondering if maybe you'd help me clarify some ideas a bit?" Um, no.
Incidentally, I just ran to Diag party store for my magic late-night paper writing energy combo of Dr. Pepper and Snickers, and it's snowing outside. Dammit, Michigan, didn't you get the memo that it's supposed to be spring now? If it doesn't warm up at least thirty degrees in the next two weeks, I am going to have one cold ex-Penguin on my hands.
Frickin' damn. Why won't this benighted semester end already?
As of tomorrow, my Joyce paper will be a week late. I can't go talk to my professor about what a hard time I'm having, because the last time I didn't have the stupid thing when I said I would (this would be yesterday), I made up some dumbass excuse about having run out of my printing allocation, and could I have my roommate print it out for me and turn it in on Thursday? Oh the tangled webs we weave, and all that.
I don't know what's wrong with me. 4-5 pages should NOT be this hard to produce. This is farking Ulysses, for crying out loud-- I should be able to flip to a completely random page and be able to generate 4-5 pages about it.
And this isn't just me not wanting to write the paper at this point. I want to write the fucker, turn it in, not have to think about it anymore. But now I've built it up so much in my head that it's like I get a short circuit every time I try to start. I'm supposed to be handing this thing in in 14 hours (really, I need to be done in about 10 hours since I have to work at 11:00) and I have literally nothing written except the heading at the top of the page. My excuses are running really thin here-- what am I supposed to say tomorrow, "Gee, John Whittier-Ferguson, I know I told you that all I had to do was print out this paper, but in fact I have not even started yet, and I was wondering if maybe you'd help me clarify some ideas a bit?" Um, no.
Incidentally, I just ran to Diag party store for my magic late-night paper writing energy combo of Dr. Pepper and Snickers, and it's snowing outside. Dammit, Michigan, didn't you get the memo that it's supposed to be spring now? If it doesn't warm up at least thirty degrees in the next two weeks, I am going to have one cold ex-Penguin on my hands.
Frickin' damn. Why won't this benighted semester end already?
