Sometimes I feel like maybe I have lost my touch. In high school we were always be assigned these ridiculous papers to write. The proclamation was always the same, “This is to prepare you…”, “When you’re in college…”. But, you see, the thing is since being a college student I have had to write a vastly smaller amount of papers than what I ever wrote in high school.
This is where the problem comes in. I have to write a paper for my Shakespeare class, but I am thoroughly unmotivated to do so. Not only am I unmotivated, but I have this nagging, pervasive thought hanging around in the back of my head. I’m not sure where to even begin in writing this paper. Do I need to do research? Is the play resource enough? Is my thesis good enough? Why oh why can’t I just write?
The paper will get written, and before my Friday deadline. I am certain of this, just as I am certain that there is no way in hell that I’ll be able to make that deadline. Both of these are certainties in my mind and yet only one will serve as a truth. I suppose this just plays into the idea that in many ways we choose our own truth.
For instance, I could choose to make it true that making the deadline is an impossibility, but in choosing that truth I would be sacrificing my grade in the name of my own selfish desire not to be bothered with writing the paper. On the other hand, I can also choose for it to be true that I will make the deadline. I can choose to just write the ridiculous paper and worry about its content after I have actually put words to paper.
Regardless of what happens with the paper that I’ve been worrying over for the past week and a half, I missed blogging yesterday, which means you will be hearing from me this weekend. I will not make excuses for yesterday’s absence, though I will note that it was not a case of forgetting to blog. Let’s just say some poor planning and a flat tire were involved…
… and now I return to my essay. Stupid essays.