A lack of sleep: What a good Thursday

Random Observation/Comment #114: I have a procrastination problem, but I’ll fix it later.

I don’t remember how I survived finals’ week 8 times.  I’m officially getting too old for this, and I can’t wait to move on from this thesis.  The one class I’m taking is basically finished, so the only thing between me and freedom is that thesis.  Technically, there are approximately 2 months before I defend my thesis, but if you plan as much as I do, you’ll see that there’s just not enough time.

In total, the approximate 9 weeks will be allocated to: finish writing a 125-page thesis, complete a full simulation with results, prepare an hour presentation, practice the presentation, and wrap up all of the logistics.  Starting from today, I have one more week of work with the simulator to get a model returning decent results before vacation comes and I lose about 2 weeks with the license and the program because of the school closing for break (usually people are happy about the school being closed…).  Ideally, the break will be used to finish all of the other sections so I can just concentrate on the simulations when I come back.  Once the results are in for the more complex models, I can write the conclusions, create the presentation, and finish the proofreading in three weeks.  The last two weeks will be for logistics, finalization of paper, and practicing the presentation.

So why am I writing this when I have so much work to do?  It’s 3AM.  The simulation doesn’t work.  The paper is coming along very slowly.  I’ve had five cups of my favorite: Vente, Earl Grey, 3 honeys, Sprinkle of Cinnamon, 2 packets brown sugar, and 2 tea bags (Luckily, bringing the Starbuck’s cup back gets you 50 cents refills).  My dinner consisted of three packs of pretzels.  I have been sitting on my ass for 5 hours in a row typing on my cramping fingers and carpel tunnel wrists.  My eyes burn like they’ve been rubbed with salt.  The times I have been sleeping are on a two-seat couch with my legs hanging over the arm rest.  An unpleasant layer of stickiness and oil makes me feel like I’m made of wax.  My parents think I’ve gone crazy.  I think I’ve gone crazy.  I’m probably crazy.

~See Lemons Need a Vacation

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