Norfolk Terrace, Day 54. Just a Bad Day
The day came to a sour end, missed skype time, feeling behind for not being done with Great Expectations and not beginning a 700-page novel for next week, seminar this morning reminded me why I miss Berkeley discussions. And I only spent another 3 hours on the final draft of the monologue.
(Side-note: There was definitely an amazing moment as I took Sierra’s and my good running/Berkeley English/rhetoric Kathleen’s critiques and understood my own writing as an object of literary analysis. An adverb at the end of the sentence caused unnecessary delay in flow. The word “personified” read too much into my construction of a metaphor. I was in awe at the outside perspective looking in.)
It’s the unfortunate part of time—that I end a day that had such a beautiful sunny atmosphere with a torrent of darkness. There were picnics, football games on the lawn, drinking and hanging out in the square, at the pub too. But I declined the tempting offer to hang with Collins and Stef and instead I steamrolled (well, actually that’s ironic because I always edit in the last stages of a paper with a fine tooth comb, every word considered) out that monologue for submission. It’s curious. I am a very odd breed of student: a procrastinating perfectionist, as I term it. I’m not bragging—it sucks. I perpetually feel behind.
…2 hours later and the skype ends good. I still have to call this a bad day because the skype ended at 2, after midnight. And Vinnie left me for a four-day trip in Paris. What will happen this weekend, who knows.
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