Saturday, December 03, 2005
Plethora of Procrastination
Clearly I learned nothing from last year's experience off putting of writing to the last minute. Or from my other experience earlier last year. I need to be better about stopping the reading and researching, and starting the writing. The actual text is what gets the grade, so no matter how much knowledge I've absorbed and no matter how many fabulous insights I've developed, it doesn't count for shit until I get it put on paper and turned in.
I've been reminding myself of this fact of life since high school. I'm hoping that this time it will stick, even though it hasn't for the previous 20+ years.
I remember vividly sitting on a dorm roof at Bryn Mawr with my friend Ingrid and a manual typewriter, tapping out a paper for Romantic Music (the last remaining gut course at BMC at the time - I'm sure even that's been beefed up by now) on the afternoon of the day it was due.
Hell, I still remember vividly sitting at a table in front of the fireplace in my parent's living room in my high school years, with a manual typewriter, trying desperately to pour my thoughts onto the keyboard in a form that would show how much work I had done. Of course I probably have such a clear image of this because I also have a clear image of my father wandering downstairs in the wee small hours of the morning to give me the sage advice, "Next time don't wait so long to get your work done."
Perhaps I still have this problem out of some form of retained adolescent rebellion. Perhaps now that I've had this epiphany and see how lame it is for someone now in her 40's, I'll finally get over it.
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I've been reminding myself of this fact of life since high school. I'm hoping that this time it will stick, even though it hasn't for the previous 20+ years.
I remember vividly sitting on a dorm roof at Bryn Mawr with my friend Ingrid and a manual typewriter, tapping out a paper for Romantic Music (the last remaining gut course at BMC at the time - I'm sure even that's been beefed up by now) on the afternoon of the day it was due.
Hell, I still remember vividly sitting at a table in front of the fireplace in my parent's living room in my high school years, with a manual typewriter, trying desperately to pour my thoughts onto the keyboard in a form that would show how much work I had done. Of course I probably have such a clear image of this because I also have a clear image of my father wandering downstairs in the wee small hours of the morning to give me the sage advice, "Next time don't wait so long to get your work done."
Perhaps I still have this problem out of some form of retained adolescent rebellion. Perhaps now that I've had this epiphany and see how lame it is for someone now in her 40's, I'll finally get over it.
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Posted by Rogueslayer at 1:28 AM 
