I'm in the library finishing my last essay for this half of the trimester... well, meant to be finishing it. And I'm posting this simply because I'm terrified to look at the dribble I've written thus far, and less than willing to write another 500 words of it.
Does anyone else ever get that? Where you simply can't stand to look at the work you're doing?
I think it's a lot like going to work. Before hand, when you're in bed all snuggly with teddies and pillows you die inside when you think of getting up to go to work. But when you get there, it's never that bad. Writing essays are a lot like that. I even find them kind of fun when I'm not stressed out because my organisational skills are failing again.
The most horrible part of all is that I have nothing left to say in this post. Shit. I've run out of procrastination room.
...
...
... Nope, nothing.
Dammit, back to the essay.
Does anyone else ever get that? Where you simply can't stand to look at the work you're doing?
I think it's a lot like going to work. Before hand, when you're in bed all snuggly with teddies and pillows you die inside when you think of getting up to go to work. But when you get there, it's never that bad. Writing essays are a lot like that. I even find them kind of fun when I'm not stressed out because my organisational skills are failing again.
The most horrible part of all is that I have nothing left to say in this post. Shit. I've run out of procrastination room.
...
...
... Nope, nothing.
Dammit, back to the essay.
No comments:
Post a Comment