Going Deep

There are 116 hours and 30 minutes left to this quarter. I have a calendar set up, measuring the hours in spans of 12, rather than days in 7s. I have three in class finals. One take 8 page essay that is a take home final.

I have insane amounts of work to do. I had started the push last weekend, but I was derailed on Wednesday when all my books, notes, and papers were stolen out of my car. Some walking pathogen jammed a key into my door and broke the locking mechanism, then grabbed my book bags. One of them was in my trunk. They got all nearly all the books I need for my papers and finals. The books were shaggy with post-its and filled with my scribbles and underlines.

I'd been doing a great deal of my work on paper, since I can't seem to sit down to the computer without getting distracted. All those papers are gone. All I have left are my initial ideas and the vague sense of having done this before.

I have bought or borrowed the books I need. I'm going to miss my massive Norton anthology of Shakespeare, as much as I complained about that tome.

They took my notebook. Remember when I wrote that I was finally writing stuff? Its all gone. They took my fucking notebook. And they'll probably throw it in a dumpster along with the rest of my books.

People who steal shit from peoples' cars don't read.

So I have about 45 pages of writing to do, and 116 hours to do it--76 working hours if I take 8 hours every night.

If it was just writing, that wouldn't be so bad. A page every hour and a half... But there is reading and quote hunting to be done.

They also got my medication, which will make the theft worth it for them. 100 pills of 20mg Adderall XR, and 20 pills of 5mg. That's a dextroamphetamine, in case you're curious. The operator at the Davis police station seemed annoyed that I thought they might want to know this immediately: Officers on duty might want to know that someone might be out there strung out on what is effectively speed.

This means that I'm going to need to sleep. Maybe. I have 6 pills left, each worth 12 hours of focussed work. We'll see how this goes.

Not only did this set me back when I was already behind, but its made me rather despondent. I'm depressed and fighting apathy. In 116 hours, the quarter will be over, and I'll get another chance to stay on top of all this shit. Two more quarters after this one.

There are books on my bed, and shakes in my hand, and a distant gaze in my eye, searching the hours for a dream. There is a gasp in my breast, I thrum gaps in my chest between beats that stumbling plod. There is a nod in my chin, a droop in the lids that struggle to shut out the light, but I fight back the fall that stretches and crawls up my spine. My bed looks divine, clean, smooth, sinking swallowing slithering sheets and a gasp as my ghost sails away. But I’ve run short on days, my hours slip by like a sigh from my lips as I sleep, though I don’t yet; my best bet is to let my debt to oblivion climb. How I long for that clime! So much softer than book laden chairs. I swear I could cry til I crumble, too dry for bones. The world is alone, with echoes of hope, sprites on the far-away Friday Noon. My feet grip the ground that spins me starbound. I see the end, but there are books in my bed, and words in my head, and papers blocked up by a dam. There's a gasp in my sigh, and a gaze in my eye to the distance, as I skim and I cram.