12.11.07
But.
I sit here, staring at my paper, which is in OpenOffice Writer, and not Word. And it’s late. The paper, that is. The time is mid-morning, but I’ve been staring at it for hours and hours and I’m so tired of it already.
But.
It needs to be done.
But.
I feel the stress, the pressure, the crunch, the absolutely paralyzing need to get it done.
But.
It paralyzes me. I can hardly breathe, sometimes, and my eyes start to water and I have to force a breath in to calm down.
But.
It doesn’t last for long.
But.
I procrastinate, so that, miraculously, an idea, a tiny nugget of wisdom, a lightning bolt of an epiphany… something, anything hits me to finish this paper.
But.
It never comes.
And.
I sit here, on my couch, in what is now the daylight following a night without sleep, dreaming my life away instead of digging into new digital media and its effects on traditional media. Memories hauntingly beautiful and dangerously close, wishes that will never come true, flit through my mind, teasing me, telling me I should already be done so I can try to wish harder or work harder to bring those wishes into reality.
But.
I sit here, and write this blog. I need to break out of this, I need to move against my own desires and habits and lethargy and frustration.
And.
Just do it.