Well, I still do, somewhat. I hate myself for keeping myself on needles like that.
But I've found that I seem to do my best work under pressure.
Which is strange, because I usually buckle under pressure. I do buckle under pressure.
But I guess it's that buckling that pushes me to do well. It's almost like psychological torture. I put things off, and the longer I put it off, the more nervous I get.
Finally, I get to the point where I'm about ready to start screaming, and I realize that there's no way I could pull anything decent together.
And I'm convinced that no matter what I do, it's going to be shit. So I better try my damnedest to make something that isn't unworthy of picking dogshit off the sidewalk with.
And somehow those end up becoming my best assignments.
I have one hell of a thematic analytical essay due tomorrow. I should start that.
But I'm still at the point where I can't bring myself to care enough to get started.
I can assure you, my presence in the real world is not so extinguished that I have the time to post every day (Sometimes more than that, I'll admit.). I've had a long time of blogging build-up. I'm just aching to spill my brain onto this keyboard.
It's going to take a while, I can sense.
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