Sobriquet 38.29
Wow. Today was a horrible day in terms of productivity. I had hoped, coming off of a light weekend, that I would have been able to get quite a bit done.
I didn't.
As usual, waking up prior to seven in the morning took a bit of a toll on me and I felt sleepy all day. I spent some time after school playing chess at the coffee shop with Josh (losing, naturally) before heading home to promptly fall asleep for a few hours. When I did wake up, I found that I procrastinated far more than I have in quite some time, realizing as the minutes became hours that I wasn't going to get much completed at all. Finally, I did manage to read through most of an article, but as I grew increasingly tired, my mind kept wandering and I started the article several times before deciding that, given its length and complexity, I wasn't going to be able to do it the justice I felt it deserved.
In the end, I decided to read a brief--and I mean really brief--essay the Literary Chica sent me a while back from the New York Times. I won't summarize it here since you can simply read it for yourself, but I will say that it pretty much captures the essence of the current critical debates surrounding Coetzee and is well worth reading, especially for readers unfamiliar with the author's work. And, yes, I took notes, so I technically did what I set out to do today. . .but only in the most pathetically literal of ways. And I am disappointed with myself for that reason. I do not want a few days' relaxation to snowball into the sort of unproductive periods I find so easy to fall into and so hard to climb out of. Ugh.
Tomorrow looks like it may shape up to be a peculiar day, so I do not know how realistic it will be for me to get any writing done (though I would like to try). In any case. . .
For tomorrow: Read today's aborted essay, plus at least one additional paper...OR, read the aborted essay and get some writing done.
I didn't.
As usual, waking up prior to seven in the morning took a bit of a toll on me and I felt sleepy all day. I spent some time after school playing chess at the coffee shop with Josh (losing, naturally) before heading home to promptly fall asleep for a few hours. When I did wake up, I found that I procrastinated far more than I have in quite some time, realizing as the minutes became hours that I wasn't going to get much completed at all. Finally, I did manage to read through most of an article, but as I grew increasingly tired, my mind kept wandering and I started the article several times before deciding that, given its length and complexity, I wasn't going to be able to do it the justice I felt it deserved.
In the end, I decided to read a brief--and I mean really brief--essay the Literary Chica sent me a while back from the New York Times. I won't summarize it here since you can simply read it for yourself, but I will say that it pretty much captures the essence of the current critical debates surrounding Coetzee and is well worth reading, especially for readers unfamiliar with the author's work. And, yes, I took notes, so I technically did what I set out to do today. . .but only in the most pathetically literal of ways. And I am disappointed with myself for that reason. I do not want a few days' relaxation to snowball into the sort of unproductive periods I find so easy to fall into and so hard to climb out of. Ugh.
Tomorrow looks like it may shape up to be a peculiar day, so I do not know how realistic it will be for me to get any writing done (though I would like to try). In any case. . .
For tomorrow: Read today's aborted essay, plus at least one additional paper...OR, read the aborted essay and get some writing done.
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