Sobriquet 42.22

If anything, summer vacation does make schoolwork easier to get through. I mean, I benefit tremendously from knowing that I will have a relatively open schedule, enabling me to work at my own pace, without having to worry about cramming things into whatever gaps there may be in my work work (as opposed to schoolwork) schedule. Of course, unless you have a particularly generous grant or an especially lucrative job during the school year, you'll have to work at least a little bit during the summer -- but, still, for folks as thoroughly institutionalized (I simply cannot understand the five-days-a-week, eight-hours-a-day, fifty-weeks-a-year thing. Work for me is kind of an all day, everyday thing but without the need to be physically present at a workplace for more than thirty hours a week or between mid-May and late August) as myself, there's a special kind of liberation and sense of completion (not to mention confusion) that comes with the end of the school year. Like the Literary Chica says, "a year is divided into semesters. Not seasons, not months: semesters."

At any rate, I find myself more productive and less anxious now that the time constraints of work work have slackened. So, today, despite getting a late start (sleeping in, hanging out with Minxy, drooling over bikes I can't afford), I still managed to churn out a few more pages and I can finally I see the end of this chapter on The Master of Petersburg on my horizon. We will, for the time being, not mention the many doubts I have about the quality and effectiveness of said chapter. We will, instead, try to focus on the good stuff. Let's make Fred Rogers proud, I say.

For tomorrow: Same old, same old.