Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Time; the lack therof - a pretentious title for a self-indulgent whine.

There isn't enough time for my laziness any more. I used to spend my days largely dressed in variations on a pyjama/slouchy sportswear theme, watching Frasier and re-tweeting "funny" youtube videos. Should I have been feeling somewhat energetic, perhaps I'd type out a blog post, or even read a book. Then, I'd either cook some tea (because by the time I'd gotten dressed it was either 5pm, or time for me to get ready for work) or go to the pub. Summer holidays life was grand.

Now that I'm back at university, I expected the good times to remain, for at least one or two days of the week. It turns out, however, that third year university students have literally all the books in the library to read, plus photocopied handouts, plus assignments every week and deadlines round every corner, looming overhead like a giant fucking Albatross. An albatross dressed as Death, circling rather claustrophobically close, occasionally brushing your cheek with the tip of it's oppressively large wingspan. Deadlines are killing me. What's worse is that I've been doing nothing about them; simply feeling overworked to the point of complete un-motivation, and then staying up all night, worrying that I didn't do any work. The world's biggest failure at being a workaholic. I can't stop thinking about writing, or working, or potential stories and angles. The problem is, the only time I have to do the work I imagine up for myself is during my few afternoon hours after university, by which time I'm so lethargic and sick of books that I simply slump into my spinny-round chair and watch endless episodes of Seinfeld. And so the cycle of looming deadlines continues.

I'm not complaining about my workload - goodness knows everybody in my year is in the same boat - I guess I'm just using this premise of slightly-humerous incompetance to apologise for my lack of blogging material, and to explain my increasingly large absences between blogs. I set myself imaginary goals, and usually these get me to work harder. Unfortunately, due to a professional's opinion (it turns out I don't have S.A.D - although that does still exist - I have something slightly worse) it would benefit me greatly if I cut down the amount of unpaid writing I churn out in order to a) Improve my uni work, mood, and general quality of life and b) Stop myself from swirling down the crazy drain. So that's what I'm doing. I'm not bloody happy about it, but I'm doing it. Here's the plan.

I will blog a maximum of twice fortnightly for the forseeable future. This doesn't necessarily mean once a week - this is a compromise I had to make with said advice-giver. She said once every two weeks. I say, okay, but if something comes up and I have the time, I can write that too. It's not cheating the system, its doing something enjoyable. She sighed and said "okay, whatever". So I win. I guess.

That said, I have an interview coming up this week that I meant to post up last week before the EDL and UAF protests in Leeds on Saturday that I just haven't had the time for/inclination to get on with. It's been a rough week. So, there will be at least one more blog this week, and we'll see how I feel about limitations after that. I do think though, that this explanation blog was the one I didn't want to write - soemthing about admitting I can't cope with the workload, probably - and I may be back to normal after all. Who knows. Maybe that's extremely uncharacteristically optimistic of me.

To everybody else who's in their final years - good luck! It's difficult, but just keep remembering that it'll be worth it.

TTFN

Katie

1 comment:

coffeebucks said...

It turns out, however, that third year university students have literally all the books in the library to read, plus photocopied handouts, plus assignments every week and deadlines round every corner, looming overhead like a giant fucking Albatross. An albatross dressed as Death, circling rather claustrophobically close, occasionally brushing your cheek with the tip of it's oppressively large wingspan.

Excellent description of Final Year Autumn. With the knowing smugness of someone who's been there and done that, wait until March. You won't know what's hit you :)

Seriously, though, it does get easier by Christmas.

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