(no subject)
being a procrastinator is kind of like being terminally ill; you become painfully aware of how much time you have left before it's all over. if only you'd thought of this earlier.. if only it had clicked sooner and you acted upon it when you had the chance. it kind of stresses you out but forces you to prioritize very quickly.
still i imagine being terminally ill is more existentially liberating in a way that waiting until 5 hours before a paper is due when you haven't even cracked the book it's on yet isn't.
i've convinced myself i work best under pressure, but perhaps i've just pressured myself into believing that too?
i don't fear the reaper even though i owe him a so far poorly, half-written paper on a subject i'm just now beginning to become acquainted with. limited time and resources compels me to go with first notions, instincts and intuitions, something i need to learn how to do more, but much less so in this context.
but handing in a crappy paper isn't like dying. it's more like thinking you're going to die and then getting up and laughing it off and carrying on with the rest of your day trying to forget it ever happened in the first place but secretly knowing it's only bound to happen again. it's the triumph over mortality, sticking death's finger up your nose and wiping his boogers on the wall of sensibility.
pretend it won't happen again, pretend only 1 in 5 actually dies, pretend you like feeling this on-edge.
this stress will dissolve in a few hours, so i'll break my ass for the next week, and then it's good-bye western hemisphere, good-bye second guesses and overanalyzing every glance and comment (at least for a little while) and hello to a brief escape and hopefully to better self understanding.
still i imagine being terminally ill is more existentially liberating in a way that waiting until 5 hours before a paper is due when you haven't even cracked the book it's on yet isn't.
i've convinced myself i work best under pressure, but perhaps i've just pressured myself into believing that too?
i don't fear the reaper even though i owe him a so far poorly, half-written paper on a subject i'm just now beginning to become acquainted with. limited time and resources compels me to go with first notions, instincts and intuitions, something i need to learn how to do more, but much less so in this context.
but handing in a crappy paper isn't like dying. it's more like thinking you're going to die and then getting up and laughing it off and carrying on with the rest of your day trying to forget it ever happened in the first place but secretly knowing it's only bound to happen again. it's the triumph over mortality, sticking death's finger up your nose and wiping his boogers on the wall of sensibility.
pretend it won't happen again, pretend only 1 in 5 actually dies, pretend you like feeling this on-edge.
this stress will dissolve in a few hours, so i'll break my ass for the next week, and then it's good-bye western hemisphere, good-bye second guesses and overanalyzing every glance and comment (at least for a little while) and hello to a brief escape and hopefully to better self understanding.