Behind the Curve

Sometimes a writing project gets on top of you. You know when it is due (in this case, Monday), and you know what you are going to write, but somehow it climbs over all of your good intent and sits on your throat, undone. It messes with your head, and after a while, you are powerless in its crushing grasp. You put it off, pushing it behind other homework. You plan, reschedule, plan some more, and then lie to yourself about how good you are at pulling all-nighters.

Right now, I have a paper that is so on top of me, it's humping my leg. It's carrying a riding crop, wearing a strap-on, and yelling, "Who's your Daddy?!"

I've had weeks to do it, and I haven't written a single word yet. It just needs to be a few pages long, but the loathing of it has grown to immense proportions in my mind. It looms like a precariously placed boulder, likely to crash down on me and my GPA at any moment. I have convinced myself that if I don't get it done, it will wreck my grade in a class that is in my major. No cum laude, no grad school, and a degree that only qualifies me for a future in the exciting world of fast food management. My only comfort is that other people in the class are suffering from this malaise too. Perhaps we can all get jobs together at Burger King.

I guess I'll pull an all-nighter on Sunday...