Anti-Writer's Block
The Last Week has arrived.
The Last Week is one that is possibly more dreaded than Finals Week, although Finals Week seems to carry more horrible lore. The connotations of Finals Week make a college student shudder, but the reality of the Last Week would cause instant unconsciousness if the student wasn't already pumped full of caffeine.
I am starting my last Last Week, and that ... is odd, more than anything. Sad, yes, but I don't think the fact that I'm almost done has really hit home.
Right now, I'm sitting in a computer lab -- "my" computer lab, or so it would seem, because I've spent the majority of the total time I've spent here alone -- trying to come up with deep thoughts about "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." Maybe I could write my analysis as the story from the point of view of the Jeep (I like Jeeps), or maybe I could write about the hunts individually and what they mean, or foreshadowing or the horrid wife or the lion because that would be fairly easy or the gunbearers or the master hunter and the weight of his "misbehavior" or the death scene ... For once, there isn't a shortage of ideas. The truth of the matter is, no matter what I write, it turns out to be absolute crap. I've been trying and not getting much of anywhere. It probably doesn't matter; although I want to write now, it's far more likely that it'll get written on Monday night about 14 hours before it's actually due.
I could change gears and write my paper for creative writing about a play I didn't particularly enjoy over a topic with which I'm not sure I can fill two pages. Again, it doesn't matter -- it'll probably get written Monday night right after the "Francis Macomber" analysis because by then my brain will be on a roll and I'll be under the pressure of a deadline.
Maybe instead I'll get back to work on my chem-e homework, although it's already crashed my computer twice.
Today is not conducive to homework.
Perhaps I'll do what I'm much better at doing -- stall, stare off into space, think about things that aren't as important but much more interesting. Or the symphony, which is probably less important than my homework but definitely more interesting.
I'm not ready for the Last Week. But I lack the motivation to fix that. This could be a long weekend.
The Last Week is one that is possibly more dreaded than Finals Week, although Finals Week seems to carry more horrible lore. The connotations of Finals Week make a college student shudder, but the reality of the Last Week would cause instant unconsciousness if the student wasn't already pumped full of caffeine.
I am starting my last Last Week, and that ... is odd, more than anything. Sad, yes, but I don't think the fact that I'm almost done has really hit home.
Right now, I'm sitting in a computer lab -- "my" computer lab, or so it would seem, because I've spent the majority of the total time I've spent here alone -- trying to come up with deep thoughts about "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." Maybe I could write my analysis as the story from the point of view of the Jeep (I like Jeeps), or maybe I could write about the hunts individually and what they mean, or foreshadowing or the horrid wife or the lion because that would be fairly easy or the gunbearers or the master hunter and the weight of his "misbehavior" or the death scene ... For once, there isn't a shortage of ideas. The truth of the matter is, no matter what I write, it turns out to be absolute crap. I've been trying and not getting much of anywhere. It probably doesn't matter; although I want to write now, it's far more likely that it'll get written on Monday night about 14 hours before it's actually due.
I could change gears and write my paper for creative writing about a play I didn't particularly enjoy over a topic with which I'm not sure I can fill two pages. Again, it doesn't matter -- it'll probably get written Monday night right after the "Francis Macomber" analysis because by then my brain will be on a roll and I'll be under the pressure of a deadline.
Maybe instead I'll get back to work on my chem-e homework, although it's already crashed my computer twice.
Today is not conducive to homework.
Perhaps I'll do what I'm much better at doing -- stall, stare off into space, think about things that aren't as important but much more interesting. Or the symphony, which is probably less important than my homework but definitely more interesting.
I'm not ready for the Last Week. But I lack the motivation to fix that. This could be a long weekend.
Comments