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Smell that? That’s the scent of relief

I had Thursday all planned out. I’d gotten books of poststructuralist analysis of the Internet from a buddy at work, and said plan was to read those books until 7:30 or so, then write feverishly until I’d finished the paper. Everything went fine until the “writing” part, when what actually happened was hours of banter with Nathan and Ashley, then more with online folk, then hours of guitar. One am rolled around to find only one paragraph of my paper written.

Nathan and I convened in the kitchen for cereal at that point, which I mark as the beginning of the end. For reasons similar to my own, everyone was awake during the early hours of Friday, and they all wanted to talk to me. I put up away messages, but that just tempted the distracters, and I lack the self-control to ignore them. You can trace my spiral into lunacy by looking at how my away messages evolved:

12:30 am: writing

2:00 am: writing, oh dear god writing

3:30 am: basking in the warmth of procrastination (baking, actually). aaahhhh…

5:00 am: oh jesus son of mary wife of joseph husband to mary mother of jesus! if i get two hours of sleep tonight i’ll call it “success,” rather than the more correct definition of “mind-fucking madness”

Lisa was up to see each of those messages, and we had some fairly surreal conversations as Thursday night stumbled into Friday morning:

DarcyMCIS: i just changed my major

DarcyMCIS: to

DarcyMCIS: “methamphetaminical science”

muskrat3581: for the last time, masturbation is NOT a major

DarcyMCIS: ha

DarcyMCIS: so you’re not getting credit for any classes?

muskrat3581: not the masturbation ones, no

DarcyMCIS: hmm

I’m fairly certain “methamphetaminical science” isn’t a real thing, but it was like 4:30 in the morning, so I wasn’t about to call her on it.

Surprisingly, the paper turned out to be the best thing I’ve written for a class this quarter. Normally I hate reading this kind of writing; it’s the mental equivalent of groping your way through a dense academic fog, and maybe there’re things slithering around your ankles, you don’t know what they are, maybe they bite, or maybe they just clutch your lower extremities in slick fists. If you’ve ever tried to pummel your way through a long piece by DeCerteau or almost any Liberal Arts graduate student, you know what I’m talking about. I absolutely love the ideas these people have, but they seem to view writing as a roadblock between their audience and their topic, writing whose purpose is to obscure rather than illuminate. I’m happy to say I don’t think my paper is like that, although if you’re not familiar with Foucault that part will throw you for a loop. Give the link above a click if you’re interested, or the one to the left. Or, you know, don’t.

I finished up around 6:15 Friday morning, just as the sky was starting to blush. Birds were chirping and I wanted to die. I thought about staying up another ten minutes to watch the sunrise, but it was kind of cloudy so I saved that for another night. It’s sure to come eventually. Only two finals to go!

Posted in Musings.

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