WRITE MINE. *cries* I have been sitting here since 3PM, staring at the blank Word document and hoping 5,000 words will just magically appear. NO SLEEP TONIGHT UNTIL I DO IT, AND I HAVE ANOTHER ONE TO WRITE TOMORROW AND, OH GOD, I'M GOING TO FAIL MY DEGREE.
On the other hand, I feel somewhat strengthened by the fact that I have, at least, not asked for an extension. Partly because I didn't know we could, but regardless, I have never, ever asked for one (UCC didn't allow them, and if you handed in essays late there was automatically 10% taken off your mark), and I'm not going to start now.
Ahaha. I actually was like LE SHAME SHAME QUELLE HORREUR when I went to ask for one on Monday, but Professor 'Stache told me that winkwinknudgenudge, they generally don't get the essays sorted in terms of who's handed in what for a couple of days, soooooo, if I could get it in by say... Thursday... hypothetically speaking...
Somewhat. Ish. I can probably wrap up in another couple of hundred words and conclusion, but my essay will be horribly, hilariously skewed. Still, I am actually not all that inclined to care if it is - the question is on the 'poetic engagement with love and death' in a novel, so there will be a flood of essays from whoeverall picks it on language and metaphor and imagery and blah blah blah. I decided I wanted to do something a little different, and decided to argue said poetic engagement in terms of both ancient AND modern senses of 'poetic', since the novel itself flips back and forth between present and past, and is like completely saturated in archetypes and mythological references anyway.
Cuuuurrently I have like nearly 3,000 words on the Ancienty Bit, and will probably end up with about 1,000 on the Moderny Bit. But whatever. Like I said, five squillion other people probably doing the whole language/imagery/whatever gig. He will probably want to shoot himself rather than read another 3,000-word essay on HOW THE FURROWS ARE A METAPHOR FOR EL SEXO.
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*glares at own and passes coffee*
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On the other hand, I feel somewhat strengthened by the fact that I have, at least, not asked for an extension. Partly because I didn't know we could, but regardless, I have never, ever asked for one (UCC didn't allow them, and if you handed in essays late there was automatically 10% taken off your mark), and I'm not going to start now.
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And now seriously contemplating an email to Darryl Jones, one which hopefully won't consist of capslock and shameless begging. :|
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Cuuuurrently I have like nearly 3,000 words on the Ancienty Bit, and will probably end up with about 1,000 on the Moderny Bit. But whatever. Like I said, five squillion other people probably doing the whole language/imagery/whatever gig. He will probably want to shoot himself rather than read another 3,000-word essay on HOW THE FURROWS ARE A METAPHOR FOR EL SEXO.
*justifies to self*
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WHAT WOULD THAT BE, IN STEREOTYPICAL TERMS.
A FOUR LEAF CLOVER?
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