| panic. panic. panic. |
[Feb. 14th, 2002|12:15 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  crazy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | blood rushes blood rushes blood rushes | ] |
No, not the kind of panic cool people get. This is boring old work panic.
I have three projects due at twelve-hour intervals starting tomorrow morning. Oh yes, this will be an interesting day and a half.
Having seen what awaits me over the next thirty-six hours, I shrink in fear, like testicles in a cold pool.
Really. Just like that. *shrivel*
I don't want to go back to work. But I fear failure more. Am I somehow acting heroic by beating the shit out of my body with sleep deprivation and stress? Or am I cowardly for fearing failure enough to do so?
Yeah, some of this is stolen from Rek's post. It bears repetition, 'cause it's +1 Insightful, baby!
I usually go to sleep around three in the morning. Why does it feel so late already? Must be time catching up with me.
Note to self: allocate more than two hours for a five-hour project.
I shouldn't even be posting. But my brain's in nervous fibrillation. I won't get anything done until I run back to the dorm, 'cause the lab should have closed twenty minutes ago.
Whee, now I remember why I love school... |
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| cold |
[Feb. 14th, 2002|01:09 am] |
should get to work. eschewing caps 'cause of frozen hands. also attempting terseness.
walked back from lab with books under arm. the very icon of geek. passed people. the kind of people who walk home at one am, not from the lab.
i mean, i've walked home that late from hanging with friends, what's the big deal?
i don't know.
i need to go chase some tail. but first i need to chase some semaphores and deadlocks.
fuck it's cold here. my hands now have that refreshingly dreadful burning-thawing sensation in them.
the flame, the flame. |
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| betwixt classes |
[Feb. 14th, 2002|09:38 am] |
The instructor let us out early. "Hmm. There's no way I'm going to cover this in ten minutes." So I grace livejournal with my presence.
Of course, now that it's the middle of the day, I realize that all my classmates are just human, most of them not much smarter than me. There's no insurmountable task here, and there are more hours in the day than I'd previously counted.
If it weren't for the constant feeling of "this place looks like a good bed", even while walking, I'd think I was feeling pretty good.
Going to grab munchielets (which livejournal thinks should be "minefields") from the little cart down the hall and look like I'm awake now. Then classes, and errands, and homework, and laundry, and rolling, and homework, and tomorrow's class, and then the possibility of a two-hour nap. Oh, the rapture.
Good planning. Good planning will be my friend. |
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