I really hadn't intended on going to school this morning, until I got an e-mail from my super-awesome supervisor confirming that we have a 10:00 meeting. I was hoping to "work from home" and by that, I mean sleep in and do some reading on my couch and in my pyjamas.
Long-story-long: I thought our meeting was Tuesday, he kept horrible meeting notes, we compromised on 10 Monday and I got to school late, coffee-less and tired. He gave me about 8 journal articles to try an plug through. The funny thing is that he really didn't give a deadline, but he's so chilled out that I'd feel kind of bad if I didn't try to conquer at least half of them this week.
It started with: "So, how are classes?", moved on to "Well, let's try and pinpoint you into the right direction", turned into "Don't feel like you have to have some new information every time we meet, this is mostly just formality", which snowballed to "If you have any questions later this week, come see me. This is tough shit to wrap your brain around". Yeah, he's that chilled out.
Although there's no "real" pressure, I still feel like I should throw in some sort of effort to read enough to take advantage of his availability to help me out later this week, which means that I should try to get something done so he can warrant helping me out. Add it to the pile.
You know the metaphor I mentioned earlier, the one where you're so busy that you can't slack or you'll get bogged down? I'm changing the metaphor. All you have to do is stay ahead of the giant-ass snowball rolling down the hill behind you.
Today I got a little caught up in the snowball, got flattened for 1 or 2 cycles down the hill, then after I had a really, really big cuppa joe, I managed to unstick myself from the snowball and continue running. Lucas pictures it as getting unstuck, running like mad, turning around and flipping it the bird then continuing to run like fuck down that hill with the menacing snowball grumbling and growing behind you. I'm hoping for some sun to start melting that motha fucka.
At least I was able to unstick myself from the snowball. I blame WEC for allowing me to let down my guard and get wrapped up in it in the first place. Whatever, it was fun. Back to life, back to reality.
I honestly wish I had some time to make a sweet paint picture of me running in front of the snowball, but if I took the time to make it, I might get wrapped up in it again. And that would suck. Instead I sort of found a reasonable cartoon rendition. Just as effective.....most likely.
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