Just dropped off the pant load that is another term paper; finally my verbal constipation has cleared up. Sorry for all the poo imagery, but there's something about the buildup to my night-before, marathon paper writing sessions that makes me feel, mentally, like I've ingested some kind of McDonalds for the brain. I'll sit there, wishing I could force the words out my fingers, onto the keys, and into my word document, but for some reason I just sit there, frustrated - rocking back and forth (no, not really)- without any output to speak of until about 11:30pm the night before. Then it all comes rushing out, like my brain finally consumed some roughage. I feel the relief of my mental purging palpably as the last page drops and I save the whole mess. Now I need to wrap it up in a non-nondescript email package and send it to the teacher that has plagued my existence for the last couple months; the revenge is in her having to read through the stinky mess I just dropped. I can admit it, my paper really is crap this time, but at least it's out.

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