With less than 2 hours left until my self-inflicted deadline, I now have 8.5 pages typed and believe the other 1.5 pages will come from expanding on things I rushed through.
But...I just. don't. want. to. write. anymore.
I feel like there should be some marathoner's metaphor for this, but I haven't been a runner since tenth grade gym class, so I just don't know.
Writing papers is lame. It's a good thing I'm doing a creative dissertation because there's no way I could do hundreds of pages of this.
So. Back to work. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Update: 10:34. I almost finished on time. And, I'm a little short page-wise, but my word count is right on track. How does that work?
Anyhow, we have to read these bad-boys and I know that it takes longer than 15 minutes to read ten pages, so it's good that I'm short.
the anxieties of blue skies
1 week ago
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