Well, here’s a funny thing. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m not sure what I mean by “this”, but my brain keeps telling me that the things, they are bad. I think it’s because of the whole not sleeping last night and the pathological need to be busy, but in any event my brain is like a sleepy, recalcitrant two-year-old right now.
My current state of mind has got me reminded of how much I was dragging my feet over this essay that’s coming up in class. I thought I’d be more excited. I can pick the topic, the style, the length, the tone, everything but the due date. It was funny – I was excited. I had an idea, even a working thesis which let me tell you does not happen very often at all. But after that, I balked. I would have to do research. I would have to revisit my old History notes and decipher my scrawl (I’m a Luddite and hate writing things on the computer – go figure). I would even have to check out library books at the Hatcher! Lord spare me.
But then I made myself get started. I skimmed an article, laughed at the earnest Nineties tone it had, and before I knew it, I was taking down notes on index cards, just like my equally Luddite high school teacher had taught me to do. Two hours later, I had filled ten note cards with quotes and notes, cut forty percent of my paper, and added in twenty percent more. At the end of the night I was cleaning up sentences and fixing syntax and my friend had to pry me away from the computer to watch a movie with her. And now, twenty-four hours later? The two-year-old is back and I’m so over writing this essay. Thank God for fall break next week, am I right?