Death Becomes Me

I am not dead, as many believe, but am slowly inching my way towards the slippery slope of perilous doom. I am up at 5:37 AM, for my third night this week of pre-test, all-night study. This means, unfortunately, that I must make up for this sleep at some point in the day. If, however, I fail to find the time, I will most certainly die. Since I foresee additional sleepless nights in my upcoming week, I think death could most certainly be in the cards for me. If this is the case, please, do not cease to comment on here. Go on with life, as though I exist. You can even set a place for me at your table; make it a Christmas tradition. Or just give me Christ's seat until he comes and demands it back -- I'll be more than happy to partake of his food. In the meantime, I seem to remember that my mom said she'd be making Cherry pie ... I'm going to go check the refrigerator to see if she really did. That may save me from death for a few more evenings, so keep that fine china away from my placemat for now -- I'm going to live.

An Overwhelming Undertaking

I sit here pondering my previous day -- a day that has been complete for half of what some would consider to be the most important measurement that is commonly used in this society. I awoke late -- missing the entire morning -- leaving me with just the second half to finish what I have determined is the most important paper that I have ever had to write, and what others would likely consider just another paper. Nothing more, nothing less.

I regret nothing; I worked hard. It may not come to be any great thing, and at this moment, it has not generated even an inkling of satisfaction for anyone except myself. I worry for its completion. The conception came quickly, in a rush of grandiose insight and wit, and yet the research was delayed by my own selfish desires to increase other aspects of my living existence, and now I am forced to do in a day what should be done in no less than three.

The final product will inevitably be remarkable. While it can not be seen at the moment by others' eyes, or even by my own, its existence is soon to be created by my capable faculties -- and it is overwhelming. I write now in hopes that by the completion of tomorrow I am still capable of proceeding with my commendable undertaking. If I'm not, then my grade will surely suffer.