Method to the madness. An organised mess. Carnage. Call it what you will—it is my reality.
As an aspiring writer (I hate those two words put together like that—they only reinforce the fact that I am not yet a professional writer), my mind is in utter chaos 99% of its waking hours. This time of year (i.e. finals and research papers), that percentage increases to a full one hundred.
If you think the countertop where I’m writing a research paper is bad, you should see the innards of my brain—it’s disastrous. I can’t keep anything straight; if I fail to write down a deadline I forget it altogether simply because my brain is incapable of retaining even one more piece of information on its own. And it’s not even time for final exams yet! This is just the term paper time! I have a permanent nervous tick—two, in fact: one in my eyebrow and one in my right thigh. It’s awful. To make matters worse, I am out of DDP™ (that might account for the nervous tick, now that I think of it). I have three research papers to write and each of them must be amazing. Already, I have put over ten hours into one (it sounds absurd, but it’s true: my professor is not joking when she says “research paper;” her requirements for my resources are insane, to the tune of “two of your resources must not be available within a 100-mile driving radius of the university campus; one of them must be an online source that is only available online; and one must be a source in print that is ONLY available in print and NOT online. Also, close your eyes, stand on one leg, sing ‘Hello Dolly’ in French, and fake a sneeze. Then document it in MLA format.”)
I’m not kidding—it’s nuts.
I don’t know what it is that compelled me to take these classes; whatever it is, it’s catching, because I’m registered for next semester, and it’s gonna be even worse. I’d rather catch a bad case of the Swine Flu than have this disease, which I am diagnosing “College-for-No-Reason-itis.” I recommend you steer clear of me, because it’s obviously contagious, and I wouldn’t wish its symptoms on my worst enemy {okay, maybe her [that little slut]; but certainly not my casual enemies}.
It’s dreadful.
My only consolation is at least I’m a good writer and I won that writing contest to prove it—oh, wait. No I didn’t.
Dammit.
At any rate, in case you couldn’t tell, I’m getting closer to crunch-time for my classes, and this blog is suffering from the side effects. I’m sorry, little blog. I’ll try to keep you maintained on a regular basis, but that only means one measly post every weekday…I can’t promise anything by way of quality.
I’m sure you understand.
10 Responses to Chaos