So true.
So, here's what's due for me; keep in mind that I have no free time during the day whatsoever.:
By Tomorrow:
Session reports for my supervisor, final paperwork
By Thursday:
3 page psych paper
5 page psych paper
5 journal entries for lit
2 page essai for non-fiction
Approx. 7-8 blackboard posts for non-fic
Friday I'm presenting on eating disorders in Portland
Saturday is Luke's B-day so I'm sure as hell celebrating and not working - which is fine b/c that's whawt I want.
Due Monday:
First draft of 5-6 page lit paper
Due Tuesday:
Polished long non-fic piece
Writer's notebook
Due Wednesday:
7-8 page Bodywork paper, 10 minute presentation, visuals abounding
Due Thursday:
Completed lit paper
Then, pack up my whole dorm room and be completely moved out by Friday afternoon.
Kill me.
Meanwhile, I"m struggling with my mindset. I'll make it and be fine, but I don't need the fucking added stress right now.
This is what I'm feeling - articulated by Marya. Amen.
"This is the weird aftermath, when it is not exactly over, and yet you have given it up. You go back and forth in your head, often, about giving it up. It's hard to understand, when you are sitting there in your chair, having breakfast or whatever, that giving it up is stronger than holding on, that 'letting yourself go' could mean you have succeeded rather than failed. You eat your goddamn Cheerios and bicker with the bitch in your head who keeps telling you you're fat and weak: Shut up, you say, I'm busy, leave me alone. When she leaves you alone, there's a silence and a solitude that will take some getting used to. You will miss her sometimes . . .
Bear in mind she's trying to kill you. Bear in mind you have a life to live . . .
There is an incredible loss. There is a profound grief."
By Tomorrow:
Session reports for my supervisor, final paperwork
By Thursday:
3 page psych paper
5 page psych paper
5 journal entries for lit
2 page essai for non-fiction
Approx. 7-8 blackboard posts for non-fic
Friday I'm presenting on eating disorders in Portland
Saturday is Luke's B-day so I'm sure as hell celebrating and not working - which is fine b/c that's whawt I want.
Due Monday:
First draft of 5-6 page lit paper
Due Tuesday:
Polished long non-fic piece
Writer's notebook
Due Wednesday:
7-8 page Bodywork paper, 10 minute presentation, visuals abounding
Due Thursday:
Completed lit paper
Then, pack up my whole dorm room and be completely moved out by Friday afternoon.
Kill me.
Meanwhile, I"m struggling with my mindset. I'll make it and be fine, but I don't need the fucking added stress right now.
This is what I'm feeling - articulated by Marya. Amen.
"This is the weird aftermath, when it is not exactly over, and yet you have given it up. You go back and forth in your head, often, about giving it up. It's hard to understand, when you are sitting there in your chair, having breakfast or whatever, that giving it up is stronger than holding on, that 'letting yourself go' could mean you have succeeded rather than failed. You eat your goddamn Cheerios and bicker with the bitch in your head who keeps telling you you're fat and weak: Shut up, you say, I'm busy, leave me alone. When she leaves you alone, there's a silence and a solitude that will take some getting used to. You will miss her sometimes . . .
Bear in mind she's trying to kill you. Bear in mind you have a life to live . . .
There is an incredible loss. There is a profound grief."