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Tuesday, November 11th, 2003What I want to do is write a fun entry for you to read, because I love you dearly, and I want to please you and make you giggle with me. But I find that I can't do this for two reasons: Reason One: I am, by nature, glum. Reason Two: for the next week (until Monday, I hope) I will be thinking about James Joyce, which doesn't bring smiles to anyone, and the week after that (until the Wednesday after next) I will be obsessing about comparative medieval literature. Sure, it sounds all romantic as hell, doesn't it? The idea of sitting and ruminating on some lofty subject for weeks on end. I thought so, too. I always think of essay writing in vignettes: me in the library pacing through the stacks, me at a desk making notes and thinking "hm", me on the floor of my room surrounded by notes, me at my desk planning my attack, me sitting with my iBook in bed finishing the last beautifully crafted sentence... But it's never like that. Writing essays isn't about moments of academic still life. It's about actually doing the work. And I think I've forgotten how to write anything intelligent. Right now I'm stuck in the preparation stages. I've got the books, I've got the critiques, I've got the perfect question and I'm all set to go. But this fear of hard work has got me a bit paralysed. I'll snap out of it soon, but for now, I can't help but just look at my desk and think "oh no." Check back in two weeks. I should be a real person again by then.
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