66/90, me = waste of time

I have remarkably little to report.

My family came to visit and attend an award ceremony with me, followed by a beer at Scotty's and goodbye until their next trip to Muncie: Moving Day.

When they left, I was supposed to start working on my French paper. I don't really know what's happened in the time between then and now. I read an article, ate some broccoli, loved on Baby, and nearly finished a book... but that feels like 20 minutes not almost two hours.

I don't know what's happening to my brain. Or if it's still between my ears. I tried to write creatively, since that was the original purpose of this blog. Instead, I stared at the screen and found an article about the game I forgot to watch yesterday because I was busy writing a different paper.

I couldn't sleep last night. I had a dream about an assignment, a six-page paper to go along with the one I wrote (in the Awake World) yesterday. In Dream World, I researched a public relations campaign and then I woke up–not sure which world we're in at this point–five times in two hours, considering calling Tiffany, the girl in my class that I always turn to with homework questions.

I officially woke up, into the official Awake World, at 5:48 a.m. It took until my alarm went off, twelve minutes later, to pull the covers back and figure out if this paper is real. It was not... but now none of my other assignments seem real, either.

This is the last Big Paper. The last push. The final assignment of my undergraduate career. Maybe that's why I'm not writing it yet. Maybe that's why I'm blocking out three hours before class tomorrow to let my brain recover, rest and restart.

Today was the final pre-graduation celebration. It was the last bit of bustling around for things out of my control–things like award ceremonies, office birthdays, homework late nights and holidays at home, which all include cake, brownie fudge sundaes and beer. They do not include yoga. They do include coffee. They do not include vegetables.

So. That phase is over. As is my random Scotty's Phase. After two bad beer experiences (an old bottle of Bell's Porter and a horribly acidic Stone Ruination), I am over it. Money in the bank. Fat off my stomach.

My mind is jumbled right now. It's 10 p.m. My fingers crack when they move to reach the keeps. My teeth hurt. I'm falling apart. I have a to-do list set for tomorrow that I feel pretty good about. My fiancé is back in a place where he can talk on his phone for more than ten minutes. The semester is almost over. My rabbit is cuddling up next to me.

All of this is to say that, for many reasons and out of serious need–physically and emotionally–I am giving up. And I am changing my ways, sister. For tonight, I'm packing. For tomorrow, I'm knocking out some things that have been on the "Get This Shit Over With" list for the entire semester. Including this paper (Silence and Nonlinear Structure: The Chaos of Women's Roles in French Indochina, if you're wondering... no wonder there's no motivation, right?).

I'm fighting the urge to type in caps lock. I'm am the whiniest, lamest snot right now. I have made people read about my nothing-doing, to close another night saying, "So I think I'm going to pack now." I get this way, trapped in the inbetween. I've never been a procrastinator, but with so much to look forward to after May 8, holding myself grounded in these moments and in these assignments is not happening. I'm going to need some tips from my friends on being successful working under serious pressure at the last minute.

Deadline of Rough Draft: 2 p.m. tomorrow
Needed: 5 pages double-spaced French
Have: 2 pages of single-spaced quotes to serve as an outline in both languages
+ a cover page + a works cited
+ a working thesis statement

Not a bad start, right? Granted, I did it yesterday. But there have to be people more behind than me, right?

At least I can do laundry and clean my rabbit's cage in the morning. And do yoga. And eat granola. My heart rate is slowing at the thought. Small things, then the big thing (a.k.a. The Paper). No translation work tomorrow. Then a big wedding step tomorrow evening: picking up wedding bands + opening our "Gift Registry" bank account.

Yeah, that's it. Tomorrow will be different.

I need a beer.