So I'm blogging the plan. I'm, alas, killing more trees and printing the monster out. Then I'm going to shower. (I know, I know. But I wanted to get working before noon. So the shower had to wait.) Then I'm going to take the stack and one of my new good pens, courtesy of SO, and hop over to the Caffeine Corporation. I'm going to write all over it. And only then will I come home and start back on the laptop.
By the way, since this is the weekend I have to radically revise this chapter, I would count on updates pretty regularly. No more checking Adventure U email for me! Must WORK! I envy y'all sitting around watching TV. Watch some really awful 80s miniseries for me, okay?
Well, I went to the Caffeine Corporation and wrote all over my draft. Then I made the mistake of stopping by a friend's yard sale. Not only did I get a silly hat, but I stood there wasting precious hours when I should've been working. But how much can you work in one day? How much is reasonable to expect? I worked about an hour or so this morning, then two hours at the Caffeine Corporation. That's not even my usual 4-5 hours -- or what's become my usual as the panic has set in. If only Peppy Advisor hadn't said I was "in good shape." If only she had said that I better race to the finish line because she wasn't sure I'd graduate in August.
Okay, it's bargaining time. Because a part of me really wants to go and watch a movie and let my brain reconstitute itself now that it's melted from being in the sun in spite of silly hat. I need to type in my notes and cut and paste stuff to make a chapter that sort of flows. After that, I'm definitely going to need to add stuff and do some reading to remind myself of some source arguments. Then I'm going to need to add those other voices. Then I'm going to need to go through the whole thing again. Then turn the damn thing in (Monday). If I stop today before I do any reading, I need to have a list of things I need to reread and why so I can start right up reading tomorrow. So that leaves typing in my notes, cutting and pasting stuff together to make things flow-y, adding the stuff I know I need to add, and figuring out what I need to read. NO! It's too much. That's a good three or four more hours. Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!
Okay, I'm in my whiny state, which usually signals diminishing returns (or so I'd like to tell myself). Perhaps a nap? Watch a couple shows to clean my brain? Then we'll reconvene and stay up late. How's that for a plan?
God I suck.
I'm up. I really am. Naps are soooo gooood. But now I'm up. I'm at'em. I'm nuking vegetables. Everything will be fine. I will work. I will.
***Update 12:52am (if I haven't slept, it's still the same day)***
My suckage knows no bounds. I'd say that I've set a personal best for suckage today, but I've had far worse days where I watch TV shows and tell myself that "after this one, I'll get up and go work." But I haven't quite been this bad on the dissertation. It's my last damn chapter of Draft 2; you'd think I'd be able to get some momentum going. But no. I just want to laze around. And I talked with WSF for about an hour because I just can't handle working. On a Saturday night. What the hell is wrong with me?
So where am I now? I am sleepy, that's where. (And apparently grumpy.) I've done 11 pages. This is practically nothing in comparison with the crazy goals I had this afternoon of typing in all my notes. No, I have not even typed in all my notes, though I am much closer as the second and third sections are not as disordered as the first section was.
Mr. Tabby clearly has the right idea. He has deigned to come down from his favorite perch near the window in order to consecrate my drafts with his sleepy self. I am yawning, which is good as it suggests that I might sleep. But I'm mad at myself for not getting my shit together and just pounding this thing out today. Tomorrow's going to suck, because WSF wants me to come over and help him with his CDs (which actually means that I'm going to look through them and decide which ones I want and which ones he's borrowed.)
Well, I'm very tired, but actually going to bed would mean moving all the papers off the bed, which means moving Mr. Tabby. Which I clearly cannot do. So I'll plunk a little longer and see if I can't get a bit more together so tomorrow won't look so terribly bleak.