May. 13th, 2002

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It's almost 4AM, and the main study room in the library begins to fill up again, as insomniacs, congenital worriers over finals, and those who, like our hero, seek to eke in those last few hours of studying time. Their conversation, filtered through headphones and the haze of stimulants, provides an almost comforting background babble, a touch of humanity in the stark world which is exam week. Everything has gone wrong - the printers are spewing garbage, Ethernet drops randomly stop working, the circulation staff is alternating between huddling under the desk and staring at the ceiling - and life continues in the midst of mess.

God, what a mess. I should rework and expand that sometime...but back to studying. Bleah.
annathyst: (Default)
Dave went for a snack run and brought back Fun Dip for everyone! Woo!

I'm not even tired. This is so weird.
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Beethoven's Ninth is really great for keeping me going this early/late.
It's also great in and of itself, but it's good now.
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And I even found batteries for my 89. W00T.
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0700. The day is beginning for many an unfortunate office-bound worker, as they haul themselves out of bed, sluggishly go through the motions of morning toilet and coffee, and hurry off to work in whatever mode of commutation they prefer.
My day is nearing its midpoint and far, alas, so far, from over.

Pages of notes an assignments litter the desk in front of me; the appearance of a complete mess is only strengthened by batteries, empty paper cups which once held tea, wadded-up wrong answers, and cables. I've outlasted everyone who was here when I sat down to work yesterday, and I'm still going, with five hours until first final.

The sun came up an hour and a bit ago; I only noticed it because the skylight turned blue from black...in the flourescent lit steady-state of the study room, time seems irrelevant. The chemical fog - and what a fog! burnishing that which it obscures to brightness impossible to overlook! - contributes to that as well; I find myself living in the moment of inscribing formula on paper, of converting words from text into meaning, of symbol entry into calculator.

I float in that which has been dumped into my accepting mind while I worked, and feel it settle into place. I am that.

I will regret this later. But later...Now is what matters.
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Time IS illusory. I can make a moment last as long as I want it to.
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Almost as prepared as I'm going to be for the finals
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And the extra time bought on borrowed funds begins to exact its price; while the startling clarity remains, with it is a heavy weight, as though limbs are leaden. This, then, is saturation, modeled explicitly by that which I was studying mere minutes ago; life as a logistic.

Crude reality intrudes upon the sanctum that this chamber has become - the buzz of power tools in a connected room drives home the point that this is still a real day, that though I may have taken a journey through myself and my work, others continue on with the comparatively mundane. The clock reads quarter past ten, and though no bell marks the interval, I can hear its tolling clearly enough, sounding the end of this higher state of consciousness. In closing intervals, I glance around near-frantically, in a futile attempt to preserve the heightened, additional degree of perception and focus granted through effort and chemistry. It ends, this week ends, all come down, the packages breaking loose from cargo containers as their carrier runs off its tracks, but the memory remains.

--Adam Glasgall, 2002, during finals week.
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Twenty-four hours of continuous consciousness.
Twelve of which were spent studying and doing work.

I may have done more work last night/this morning than I did in the entire rest of the semester.
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I finished both of my finals.
At least I had something to write for each question on them, and I probably got a B- or better in calc and my usual C+ (maybe better) in physics

I will *not* procrastinate like this next semester. The all-nighter was a nightmare, despite the ...interesting...writing it produced. I need to take a closer look at that.

All that's left now is my sem paper. 8-10 pages about a vaguely interesting topic...yeah, I can pull it off.
But first, I badly need sleep.
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Slept for a bit over three hours. I needed that.

Now, to wake up enough to do my term paper.

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Anna

June 2021

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