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Lol-taire's picture

Oh puke, tomorrow is the day of truth- the last day I have left to finish my second year essays. Oh lord, university is bloody stressful.

I have 400 words to write before I go to bed. Then I'll be on target for tomorrow- which is to say I'll be massively behind, but less drastically behind target than I would be if I didn't finish this section about the Julius II and the new St Peter's Basilica and architecture as a means of creating/rewriting papal history an mythology. All of which I am making up as I go along. Goodbye research!

Comments

niks121997's picture

Oh...

...I wish you all the luck and flowing ideas with that one. Keep breathing my dear. :) That doesn't exactly help so much I know.

the ghost's picture

I feel your pain, college is

I feel your pain, college is incredibly stressful. Though there is that satisfaction you feel as you hand in some work that you have been up all night typing(or maybe thats just me). I love that feeling of relief, mixed in with absolute exhaustion.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent-Eleanor Roosevelt

Lol-taire's picture

I thought I'd feel relieved,

I thought I'd feel relieved, but I actually feel worse because I think what I handed in is shit and I've ruined everything. But like, there's nothing I can do now.

How are you? You must be doing all final year stuff at the moment- do you have much left? Good luck with it all!

I did stay up all night - at the library, where I sort of set up camp from 9.00pm until hand in the next day. The thing is it's not like I hadn't been working on them before, but the panic and my utter disorganisation just means I always seem to end up working up to the deadline. Normally the panic makes everything fall into place- because there's the necessity to drive it. But I really do think it's imploded this time.

Sigh. At least I wasn't the only one in that position. Loads of history people were in the library all night, and everyone else seemed to have been up all night at home anyway.

I was working in the sort of foyer, so whenever anyone came down for a cigarette we'd compare states of panic/horror. And at least I had pretty much writen the damn things by the time I got there, unlike the poor souls who were still trying to write their last 3000 words at 6.00am as the sun came up. Everyone there was just wired on sugar and caffiene and exhuastion and stress. By about 8.00am we were all pretty hysterical- like everything was really funny and no-one could manage to talk properly. Like we were speaking sort of badly writen dialogue in a another language that's being translated as you go along. When my friend brought me a cup of tea I could have wept.

We all went to the pub after the hand in and pretty much everyone at the table hadn't slept for at least 36 hours. I was so tired I actually felt like I was in a dream already.

I got home this afternoon, realised I haven't actually eaten since yesterday, grabbed like an iced bun with some marmelade (isn't that so children's fiction?) and a cup of tea and planned just to nap for a bit, but I slept for nine hours.

Usurper's picture

I like marmalade. What kind

I like marmalade. What kind of tea do you drink?

Lol-taire's picture

P G tips, splash of milk no

P G tips, splash of milk no sugar.

Me and my flatmate get through boxes of the stuff (of course we have other tea in the cupboard- lapsang, earl grey, mint, jasmine; but P G tips is what's in the tin by the kettle). (I do live in England which explains things)

Usurper's picture

I like jasmine tea a lot and

I like jasmine tea a lot and I also like the flower. we got a teapot once that you could watch the flower bloom inside the water as you drank it but I choked on something and we got rid of it. It made my sister sad because she liked flowers. She was only 5 and shit so I felt bad about making people get rid of it. I think we had jasmine tea in it but I don't remember.

I went to england once and I remember Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guard. I was a little funny then so I tried to climb the wall and got in really big trouble but I was little so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Usurper's picture

Sorry that didn't make much

Sorry that didn't make much sense

Lol-taire's picture

No, you made perfect

No, you made perfect sense.

I love those tea pots where you can see the flowers. When I visited my granny we went to afternoon tea (!) and my little sister had the most beautiful rose tea served in a glass teapot full of dried rose buds. It was just so elegant.

And ha, funny I don't think I've ever been to see the changing of the guards. It's like, since I've pretty much always lived in London (admittedly in the suburbs for most of my life) you just don't really see these things. And I've never been inside St Paul's Catherdral. Like, my flatmate has never been to the National Gallery (even though she works like five a minute walk away from it).