Tomorrow is my second to last midterm. To prepare for this, I set aside the night for memorization and material review.
Upon returning home, I first cleaned off my desk, checked my email, and then spent two of my precious hours perparing for next year and making sure graduation will be done in a timely manner.
After completing this task (where I don't have to take any hard classes next spring or really any classes at all.. woohoo!), I moved on to making a detailed outline of what I should study and what I should look up. Halfway through this, I started googling my beautiful home for next year on google earth.
This sucked up another hour and a half.
Then I spent the next twenty minutes lamenting to the 'mates about how I need to study for this midterm but lack the motivation. I settled my nerves with a piping hot mug of mango sweetened black tea out on the porch, chatting with the neighbor boys about the other neighbor boys while throwing stale flavored Trader Joe's Puffins at the other neighbor boys (three sets... how could I have been so lucky?).
I washed this down with a fright as one set of neighbor boys threw a flood of newly bloomed flowers over the railing to give us a little scare.
It is now 10:47pm. I have a midterm in less than twelve hours (infact, it's dangerously close to ten at this point), I have not printed out my review questions, I have not looked over my notes, and I most certainly have not begun studying the differences in inequality theory as presented by various theoriests whose names I can't recall because I haven't looked over their main points and how it pertains to my reading that I have almost completed (but not quite).
And yet, here I am. Why does it always seem that writing about studying is more productive than studying itself?
Upon returning home, I first cleaned off my desk, checked my email, and then spent two of my precious hours perparing for next year and making sure graduation will be done in a timely manner.
After completing this task (where I don't have to take any hard classes next spring or really any classes at all.. woohoo!), I moved on to making a detailed outline of what I should study and what I should look up. Halfway through this, I started googling my beautiful home for next year on google earth.
This sucked up another hour and a half.
Then I spent the next twenty minutes lamenting to the 'mates about how I need to study for this midterm but lack the motivation. I settled my nerves with a piping hot mug of mango sweetened black tea out on the porch, chatting with the neighbor boys about the other neighbor boys while throwing stale flavored Trader Joe's Puffins at the other neighbor boys (three sets... how could I have been so lucky?).
I washed this down with a fright as one set of neighbor boys threw a flood of newly bloomed flowers over the railing to give us a little scare.
It is now 10:47pm. I have a midterm in less than twelve hours (infact, it's dangerously close to ten at this point), I have not printed out my review questions, I have not looked over my notes, and I most certainly have not begun studying the differences in inequality theory as presented by various theoriests whose names I can't recall because I haven't looked over their main points and how it pertains to my reading that I have almost completed (but not quite).
And yet, here I am. Why does it always seem that writing about studying is more productive than studying itself?
posted by The Smart Pineapple at 22:44
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