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Gratuitous complaining in lieu of work
Apr. 13th, 2005 01:56 pmI should really be slogging through an analysis of "A December Vision" right now. But the mere thought of it makes my whole being rebel. Seriously, I have never felt such a physical reaction before. ( Eh. Cut for being depressing )
I am making progress. I have 24 pages, and material enough to get it to 30 (though I'm debating about leaving out something I was planning to do, as being irrelevant). It's just that everything in me would rather be doing anything than making progress. Only the pig-headed stubbornness of the part of me that knows I have to get this done, and wants to get this done so I don't have to feel this leadenness, keeps me at work, and that tires out quickly. I check my watch all the time, longing for it to get to lunch-time, or to 4 o'clock, so I can kid myself that the day is over.
Today, I haven't even bothered to push myself so far; I've just quit. I'm gonna make a brief start on the research for my next chapter instead. That way, I can convince myself I'm still working, so it's ok to not be writing.
I am making progress. I have 24 pages, and material enough to get it to 30 (though I'm debating about leaving out something I was planning to do, as being irrelevant). It's just that everything in me would rather be doing anything than making progress. Only the pig-headed stubbornness of the part of me that knows I have to get this done, and wants to get this done so I don't have to feel this leadenness, keeps me at work, and that tires out quickly. I check my watch all the time, longing for it to get to lunch-time, or to 4 o'clock, so I can kid myself that the day is over.
Today, I haven't even bothered to push myself so far; I've just quit. I'm gonna make a brief start on the research for my next chapter instead. That way, I can convince myself I'm still working, so it's ok to not be writing.
