Wow, lord, what a day. I'm exhausted--I've been writing essays literally all day. Over twelve hours of essays. Lord. But now I'm done, and though I feel half-dead, I also have so much caffine in my system at this point that there's no way in hell I'm going to fall asleep any time soon. Sigh.
It's frustrating, though, to read over this essay that I just completed, and know how good it could have been if I'd had more than the span of one afternoon to understand my topic, outline and write the whole thing. As it is, I tried to encorporate some lovely stylistic hand-waving to try to make up for my lack in content. Wouldn't be the first time that such a plan had worked, so it's worth a try at the very least. One never knows. After all, in the past I've gotten good marks on my punctuation alone.
So, tomorrow is my final day of class, perhaps ever. Of my undergraduate career, certainly. I'm down to two exams and two essays to write and that's it. Luckily, the two exams are short and the two essays are the ones that I'm really looking forward to researching and writing. Hard to believe that this is ending. Hard to believe that it isn't over yet.
So tomorrow evening I'm going to a book launch, and am generally going to have a fantastic time. Last day of school, you better believe I'm going to enjoy myself, exhaustion or no. And then I'm going to come home and sleep as much as physically possible, and do some essay/exam work in the morning, then print myself some new business cards, pack my bags and get myself off to Ad Astra, which promises to be equal parts fun and craziness. I'm on three panels, one of which I'm suddenly supposed to moderate. Oh, my. I think I'm crazy to agree to do this, and yet this is all part of my whole just being open and welcoming of the new things that come my way. It'll be a fun challenge, if nothing else. I choose to look forward to the experience rather than being scared. (On the morning of, however, I make no promises.) I also have my very first public reading at this convention, which I wish I had more time to prepare for. I'm likely going to read part of "A Prayer of Salt and Sand" and yet I've only ever read that one to myself a handful of times, so am woefully unprepared. I could also read "Drowned Men," which I know like the sound of my own heartbeat, and can do fun voices for each of the characters. (I tried it. It's fun.) Maybe I'll bring both and ask my audience what they'd rather hear.
(Playing through my earphones at the moment is my playlist I created this evening called "essay." I wish I could tell you how many times I've listened to these same five songs--the whole playlist is 26 minutes and change. More than eight times, to be sure. Everyone knows that I don't listen to anything while writing, and yet I needed something to get me going, to keep me going, and to drown out the sound of whatever the hell the girls who live above me were listening to/watching. Found another Sparta song that I like: "Echodyne Harmonic." I love the title, so I'm happy that the song resonates so nicely, too. Wish I liked more of their stuff so I could justify buying an album.)
Realizing that the above parenthetical comment threatened to become an entry in itself, and that I'm likely misspelling every third word, and that it's after 1 in the morning, I'm going to wrap this up. After all, if I really need to write more I can do so in under six hours when I get up. Now I'm off to steal Carly's stapler.