Fighting Writin

Have you ever been so unmotivated, the only thing you are motivated to do is be completely unmotivated? That's where I am at right now.

I have two enormous research papers due in two weeks and one large annotated bibliography--that's where I have to write not only the reference citation, but also a paragraph describing what the book or article is about. The only problem with the bibliography is that, well, umm can't quite write a good paragraph if I haven't read the material. And the only problems with the papers are, ummm, can't quite write a research paper if you haven't done the research.

So instead of writing my papers, I'll write in my blog. It's so much less pressure and so much more fun.

Why do I do this to myself??? I try to be really good and make a schedule, give myself ample time weeks before the papers are due, but alas I just can't seem to get into the groove. Must I always wait until the fourth quarter, 5 seconds left in the game, and I need a three-pointer to win?

It's kinda like the way the Illinois has played in the NCAA this year. I can see a clear parallel between the fighting' Illini and my life fighting to be a graduate student. It was fun in the beginning, no pressure, just go out there and shoot around until I make a basket. Well, someone was shooting around all right and the basket appeared to be coming from my stomach. Right after I received my acceptance letter to grad school, I found out I was pregnant with my second child. I decided it's now or never, so as a prego mamma I waddled to class, squeezed in the tiny auditorium seat, and tried to limit my bathroom runs to three times per class.

With baby on board, and husband on the couch, I was ready for the coming semesters. In retrospect, those early classes were easy wins. Winning the hearts and minds of my teachers and fellow students alike, I found myself on a straight "A" winning streak. While sitting in class they would spontaneously break out into the wave, the crowd had my back. I could hear them cheering "Go Stacey, Go Stacey, Go Stacey, GO!!!!"

Unplanned and unprepared for the making of stardom, I am starting to hope for a personal foul and a chance to take an easy two at the free-throw line. I yell out in proverbial rhetoric "Can someone throw me a freakin' bone here?"

I am feeling the pressure to keep riding the waves of my winning streak and prove to the world my worth. It certainty isn't easy, and even when the final two weeks or two minutes are on the clock, I somehow find a way to drive it to the hole for a slam-dunk.

I'm hoping and praying that my final outcome won't be as disheartening as Illinois' loss on Monday night. And if it is...well, I can always let my husband come back upstairs to the bedroom...and even in that case, there will still be only five seconds on the clock.