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It's been a productive day. The thing I hate about work is that I never feel like I could ever do it well enough. Papers are better than studying; at least with papers there is a clearer sense of where the "end" is and then there's the satisfaction of the final print. Studying never feels like it's enough.
I did some of both today. It was only supposed to be a study day, of course, but my papers were not *quite* finished. Now it's just the Chaucer paper that isn't quite finished. They both need to be revised still. But studying for Chaucer seems rather more important at this point.
I'm going to be done very, very soon. I need to remember that. Need to remember that compared to many people, I'm ahead of the game, and that I can't complain.
I am drinking Mike's. I didn't realize how very tense I was until the alcohol started making my muscles burn. It only does that when I desperately need to relax.
Tomorrow: Wake at nineish, maybe nine-thirty. Be at the library by ten. Finish rereading/skimming the canterbury tales. Make copies of the old Chaucer exams. (do I still have money on my copy card? hmm.) find time somewhere in there to eat something, maybe. Go to computer lab by two, finish chaucer paper. Dinner, back to library, start reviewing seventeenth century poetry.
There are no old seventeenth century poetry exams in the library. I find that odd.
Yeah. I think my plants are on acid. They look too green, suddenly. The orchid is laughing at me.
Maybe I should sleep.
I did some of both today. It was only supposed to be a study day, of course, but my papers were not *quite* finished. Now it's just the Chaucer paper that isn't quite finished. They both need to be revised still. But studying for Chaucer seems rather more important at this point.
I'm going to be done very, very soon. I need to remember that. Need to remember that compared to many people, I'm ahead of the game, and that I can't complain.
I am drinking Mike's. I didn't realize how very tense I was until the alcohol started making my muscles burn. It only does that when I desperately need to relax.
Tomorrow: Wake at nineish, maybe nine-thirty. Be at the library by ten. Finish rereading/skimming the canterbury tales. Make copies of the old Chaucer exams. (do I still have money on my copy card? hmm.) find time somewhere in there to eat something, maybe. Go to computer lab by two, finish chaucer paper. Dinner, back to library, start reviewing seventeenth century poetry.
There are no old seventeenth century poetry exams in the library. I find that odd.
Yeah. I think my plants are on acid. They look too green, suddenly. The orchid is laughing at me.
Maybe I should sleep.