The Usual

Last week of the term, and I'm in a very familiar place. I've stacked all the work that needs to be done into the next two days. Of course, I've attempted to work on things prior to this, but those attempts yielded nothing. So, now I've gotta bust a move and make this thing happen. I've got my last big research paper of grad school to do, and then a huge analysis for my final case presentation (which I'll give next term). But the thing about the research paper is this: it is based on a particular book. A book, you see, which I have not read. A book which my classmates likely read months ago. A book that--ooops!--I didn't buy in time before it got sent from the book store and--oops again!--I didn't remember to order online. So yeah. It's on a book I literally don't own.

Classic. This scenario is so classic. It's so classic in fact that I'm not even stressed. And that's a bad, bad thing.

I'm so close to graduation I can taste it... one term left, and I only have to accrue about 80 more therapy hours (which means I've done 420. I can't believe it).

But right now I have a very distant feeling of horror--a feeling in which I acknowledge the massive amount of work I have to do before Thursday, and yet also acknowledge that if I sit down to work, nothing will come yet. Not until the moment is ripe, and there is no time left, and the adrenaline courses through me.

Today, the adrenaline hasn't kicked in. Hours have passed with hardly any result as I've sat and "worked." Frustrating, of course. But c'est la vie, suppose. Tomorrow, I'm in therapy all day long. This leaves Wednesday night and Thursday to pump these bad-boys out. And as always, the question in the back of my mind is: will I pull this off?

If experience is any indication, then yes. Yes, I will. But it won't be pretty.

The next two days are gonna be hell.

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