Tuesday, November 23, 2004

So, this is my second all-nighter this semester. What's UP with this?! I don't do this. I mean, I admit that I'm not exactly a model student, but I don't think I pulled any all-nighters last year, so what's the problem this year? It's this ridiculous Interpretive Analysis class and the fact that I'm too dumb to interpret things analytically, that's what the problem is. I'm writing a paper on the Adagio from Bruckner's Seventh Symphony. The actual analysis portion was researched several days ago, outlined Sunday and Monday, and that part of the paper was finished several hours ago. Now I'm on the bit where I'm supposed to compare two performances and decide which is better, but I'm a horrible musician and I have no ear for this sort of thing, so how can I be expected to do this?! And it's an Adagio. Like, ├╝ber slow and everything. So it takes ages to listen to every time, and every time I listen to it, I glean basically nothing. So here it is, practically 6:30 in the morning, and the paper is due in two hours, and I haven't written the interpretive part. Ugh.

Let's also talk about how I'm really not on top of anything else, either. I mean, if I were feeling a bit behind or loserly about this one class, that would be one thing... but I'm a terrible pianist and a terrible violinist, too, and I don't practice nearly enough.

And another thing... I just feel like a huge old beached whale sometimes. A worthless, big, fat blob sitting around day after day reading homework, practicing various musical instruments (my latest is the trombone; Jaana needs a student for pedagogy and it's me! heh.) and being fat and worthless. Oh, I want to go to the gym, but it's just so much gosh-darned TIME, you know? I mean, walk over to the gym facilities, run and bike and work out and stuff, walk back, take an extra shower... and then make sure to fit all that in at a convenient time each day when the gym isn't closed for weight-training classes. Yeah, right. Over the summer I ran like every day. Now I run like once or twice a week if I'm lucky. And I eat junkier stuff in general, too. Because I'm lazy and because my lettuce keeps going bad in the refrigerator. Pooh. So yeah, no time to go to the gym... well, I do have time, but when I have free time I'm so often lured away by other, more pleasant ways of spending my time. So basically I'm lazy.  I'm an underachiever. I'm pathetic.

So here I sit, nursing my bad mood and wondering how I'm going to finish this paper in time. Stop blogging and write the stupid paper, Sarah. Yeah. I'm so tired. Drank some coffee, ate a few pretzels. Tired, tired, tired. Gotta finish the paper, go to class, turn it in, go to a violin lesson, go to orchestra rehearsal, give a presentation on Schoenberg in music history class, and then, then, ahh... then I can sleep. But oh yeah, I have to pack too, for Thanksgiving.

Hey, let me whine about another thing, okay? Well, I'm really disorganized in a lot of ways. Maybe in every way. So that's just one more aspect of how-Sarah-is-failing-at-being-a-decent-person. My room is currently a disaster area, and the piles creep up on my until I feel like I'm suffocating. How can I focus and concentrate on this wretched paper with unfolded socks on my bed, Brahms and Beethoven on my dresser, and random stacks of papers on all other accomodating surfaces? Help me, someone, please... I'm drowning in a pit of nastiness, right here in my own apartment. And it's my own fault.

Where does all my time go? I can't figure out where all the time has gone... I feel like I have nothing to show for this semester. How depressing. I'm so not deserving of my parents being so great and sending me to school. I should be more like my sister and my brother. I need to monitor my life more carefully. I should keep track of every precious moment. I should practice five hours each day.

Every time I have a lot of deadlines, I'm not prepared. I stress out, become somewhat frantic internally if not noticeably, and then barely pull through with decent grades and average accomplishments. Once I've met the deadlines, I'm so exhausted from barely squeaking through that I sleep for a while instead of getting ahead on the next bunch of work that I know will come my way. I think that somewhere along the line, I failed Time Management 101.

I hate this paper.

Back to work.

Oh dear Jesus... couldn't You come back now?

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