Hey! It's me! Breanna! Again! My, it's been a long time! My apologies! I don't really know why I haven't written... To be honest, I don't even know what day it is. Yay me! My brain has been... Addled lately. I don't know if I'm comign or going. That could be why I haven't posted since... My last post.
All kinds of things have happened! We had our March break, which was quite fun. Junior and I didn't do a lick of work until the last weekend of our break. Not the best idea, I'll admit, but it worked out fine. I got everything done that needed to be done (for yesterday, our first day back at school). Now I need to focus on what needs to be done for tomorrow! And the upcoming exams! Thank goodness the exams are in a month. I really need to study. (><)
Unfortunately, we have an English essay due tomorrow and I have quite a bit to do, so I'll just post a filler post! Yes, a filler post. It won't be too exciting though; it's one of the essays that I had to do this semester. Until next time!
- Bre :)
The Night I Accomplished the Impossible
Procrastination: the story of my life. On second thought,
procrastination is not the story of my entire life, but only the story of my school career. As far back as I can remember I have always left all of my important school assignments to the very last minute. I spent many a night, and early morning, struggling to finish my school work. Math assignments, English papers – you name it, and I did not do it until the night before it was due. Unfortunately, this turned into a bad habit and it kept with me throughout high school. In my last year of school, my biggest challenge had been writing my English essays. Instead of writing, I always found something that I deemed better to be doing; Math, for instance, was of a higher priority than English. I remember one particularly difficult essay that I had to write in my last year of high school.
It was early December, and the Christmas break was fast
approaching. The teachers had piled on us mountains of homework that they expected to be completed before school let out for the holidays. I was not very enthused about this because, as part of our homework, our English teacher had
graced us with a writing assignment. It was an essay, to be written on a major theme of the play, Macbeth. I dreaded writing this composition because I knew, like all of my other
assignments that year, I would write it the night before it was due. I also knew that, despite my knowledge of the play, I would have great difficulty writing the essay because of the pressure of writing a good quality essay at the last minute. As was my nature, I sat down that fateful Wednesday night and began to write.
The clock ticked impatiently as I sat at my desk, reminding me of how little time I had left. I listened to my light hum, and to my bed sweetly calling my name, tempting me to give in to sleep. My head throbbed with an
impending migraine as I tried to push thoughts of sleep out of my mind and think of my thesis statement. I sighed and sat back in my chair, hopeless and tired, and wished that I had started my essay the day it was assigned. I rubbed my eyes; looking at a computer monitor for an hour and half was beginning to take its toll on me. I turned to look at the clock and a horrible realization washed
over me: it was bedtime for my siblings.
It started with my brother and sister arguing upstairs about who was going to use the washroom first. It grew increasingly difficult to write as the night wore on because they began to argue about everything that came up. I became frustrated and, as a result, I had to stop working. The flow of words stopped the moment that my siblings opened their mouths. I groaned. “Why can’t they just go to bed!” I thought. Worry started to set in after a few minutes of arguing and I began to feel unwell. Time was getting short and I needed to finish my essay. When my siblings finally calmed down enough to sleep, I began
writing again, but to no avail.
I became frustrated and angry with everything that I did, everything that I wrote, everything in my room. My clock ticked too loudly, and I could not think; my lights hummed too much, and I could not concentrate; my
computer was so bright that it hurt my eyes, and I could not see straight. Even the tapping of my nails on my keyboard was beginning to annoy me. By midnight, I was too angry at myself to write any more. Thinking was almost impossible at this point, and writing became nothing but a dream that would never be fully realized. I began to contemplate going to school the next day with my
half-finished essay, but my eyes began to water just at the thought of disappointing my teacher with something that was half-done. Frustrated, I shook my head, expelling the thought from my mind before I had the chance to seriously
consider it. “Why,” I thought, “did I have to put this off? Why didn’t I do this last week?” I wiped my eyes and prepared myself for the long night ahead; there was no more self-pity for me. Breathing deeply, I exhaled my frustration and began working on my essay once more.
I am pleased to say that, despite all of my frustration, I
finished my essay and handed in the day that it was due. However, I was exhausted that day and I could not concentrate on any of my classes no matter how hard I tried. From this trying experience, I learned that procrastination is never the answer; all of the frustration and anxiety that go along with it is never worth the trouble in the end. Although I may sound enlightened, in reality
I am nothing of the sort. Procrastination is still my favourite way to get things done.
P.S. For any who read that, thanks! It's not great. Personally, I think Junior's was WAY better than mine.
All kinds of things have happened! We had our March break, which was quite fun. Junior and I didn't do a lick of work until the last weekend of our break. Not the best idea, I'll admit, but it worked out fine. I got everything done that needed to be done (for yesterday, our first day back at school). Now I need to focus on what needs to be done for tomorrow! And the upcoming exams! Thank goodness the exams are in a month. I really need to study. (><)
Unfortunately, we have an English essay due tomorrow and I have quite a bit to do, so I'll just post a filler post! Yes, a filler post. It won't be too exciting though; it's one of the essays that I had to do this semester. Until next time!
- Bre :)
The Night I Accomplished the Impossible
Procrastination: the story of my life. On second thought,
procrastination is not the story of my entire life, but only the story of my school career. As far back as I can remember I have always left all of my important school assignments to the very last minute. I spent many a night, and early morning, struggling to finish my school work. Math assignments, English papers – you name it, and I did not do it until the night before it was due. Unfortunately, this turned into a bad habit and it kept with me throughout high school. In my last year of school, my biggest challenge had been writing my English essays. Instead of writing, I always found something that I deemed better to be doing; Math, for instance, was of a higher priority than English. I remember one particularly difficult essay that I had to write in my last year of high school.
It was early December, and the Christmas break was fast
approaching. The teachers had piled on us mountains of homework that they expected to be completed before school let out for the holidays. I was not very enthused about this because, as part of our homework, our English teacher had
graced us with a writing assignment. It was an essay, to be written on a major theme of the play, Macbeth. I dreaded writing this composition because I knew, like all of my other
assignments that year, I would write it the night before it was due. I also knew that, despite my knowledge of the play, I would have great difficulty writing the essay because of the pressure of writing a good quality essay at the last minute. As was my nature, I sat down that fateful Wednesday night and began to write.
The clock ticked impatiently as I sat at my desk, reminding me of how little time I had left. I listened to my light hum, and to my bed sweetly calling my name, tempting me to give in to sleep. My head throbbed with an
impending migraine as I tried to push thoughts of sleep out of my mind and think of my thesis statement. I sighed and sat back in my chair, hopeless and tired, and wished that I had started my essay the day it was assigned. I rubbed my eyes; looking at a computer monitor for an hour and half was beginning to take its toll on me. I turned to look at the clock and a horrible realization washed
over me: it was bedtime for my siblings.
It started with my brother and sister arguing upstairs about who was going to use the washroom first. It grew increasingly difficult to write as the night wore on because they began to argue about everything that came up. I became frustrated and, as a result, I had to stop working. The flow of words stopped the moment that my siblings opened their mouths. I groaned. “Why can’t they just go to bed!” I thought. Worry started to set in after a few minutes of arguing and I began to feel unwell. Time was getting short and I needed to finish my essay. When my siblings finally calmed down enough to sleep, I began
writing again, but to no avail.
I became frustrated and angry with everything that I did, everything that I wrote, everything in my room. My clock ticked too loudly, and I could not think; my lights hummed too much, and I could not concentrate; my
computer was so bright that it hurt my eyes, and I could not see straight. Even the tapping of my nails on my keyboard was beginning to annoy me. By midnight, I was too angry at myself to write any more. Thinking was almost impossible at this point, and writing became nothing but a dream that would never be fully realized. I began to contemplate going to school the next day with my
half-finished essay, but my eyes began to water just at the thought of disappointing my teacher with something that was half-done. Frustrated, I shook my head, expelling the thought from my mind before I had the chance to seriously
consider it. “Why,” I thought, “did I have to put this off? Why didn’t I do this last week?” I wiped my eyes and prepared myself for the long night ahead; there was no more self-pity for me. Breathing deeply, I exhaled my frustration and began working on my essay once more.
I am pleased to say that, despite all of my frustration, I
finished my essay and handed in the day that it was due. However, I was exhausted that day and I could not concentrate on any of my classes no matter how hard I tried. From this trying experience, I learned that procrastination is never the answer; all of the frustration and anxiety that go along with it is never worth the trouble in the end. Although I may sound enlightened, in reality
I am nothing of the sort. Procrastination is still my favourite way to get things done.
P.S. For any who read that, thanks! It's not great. Personally, I think Junior's was WAY better than mine.
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