Suckage
So. I'm supposed to be writing my assignment. It's due Friday, and I've written two out of at least 10 pages so far. I hate assignments, projects and other big, individual things that require self-discipline.
It felt okay Saturday. I thought it'd be okay, and it probably will be, in the end. But right now it feels very, very hopeless. I don't really know where to begin.
I'm supposed to figure out if Dvorák's ninth symphony, From the New World, can be said to be "from the new world." I'm supposed to figure out whether there's something that indicates the music of the negroes or of the Indians. Urgh.
Suck, suck, suck.
It felt okay Saturday. I thought it'd be okay, and it probably will be, in the end. But right now it feels very, very hopeless. I don't really know where to begin.
I'm supposed to figure out if Dvorák's ninth symphony, From the New World, can be said to be "from the new world." I'm supposed to figure out whether there's something that indicates the music of the negroes or of the Indians. Urgh.
Suck, suck, suck.