Possible Signs of Maturity

This has been a hard week. The semester is sliding into that time when you know you should be writing papers and preparing for finals, but all you seem to be able to do is surf the internet and wait for the pressure to mount sufficiently to force you to actually work. There is also a dull ache that accompanies this time of the year - friends are graduating, moving on, building lives in exciting other places, while I must stay here for another semester at least. Don't get me wrong; I'm happy for them, but I have been here too many years by half already. I shouldn't complain - I'll be leaving here with three degrees, but I was ready to leave three years ago.

My responsibilities for the remainder of the semester are not too bad, actually. I have two tests, two papers, and one god-awful statistics project. It's not just that I hate stats. In fact, I discovered last summer that I actually sort of like statistics, and I am capable of doing quite well in a stats class. I do hate, however, the particular approach to stats that is being used in my current class. I hate it with a passion I normally reserve for fundies, uber-conservatives, and people who use words like "irregardless" (three groups which overlap a great deal, I realize).

Well, regardless of my angst over it, the project must be completed, preferably with a minimum of bloodshed. My current plan is to write drafts of the other two papers in the next week, and get them to the point where the respective profs can tear up the drafts, and all I'll have to worry about is editing and polishing. Then I can dedicate myself to slogging through the stats over and over until they are satisfactory.

This is uncharacteristically forward-thinking of me. I usually don't plan out the end of the semester until about two to three weeks out. Am I actually learning better habits? Could this be maturity creeping into my usually childish behavior, overtaking my carefree, "don't sweat the petty things, just pet the sweaty things" approach to life?

Don't be concerned. I'm sure I'll return to my slovenly, juvenile ways shortly.