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What I have learned in the last couple of days:
The Old Norse for pervert: arg
(warning: the usefullness of this entry ceases now.)
Caffeinated coffee actually does affect me, now. Which is odd, because it didn't, at home.
When it comes to cello-playing, I can't. I was out-of-tune on the Popper; I can't even tell when hands are tense OR when my vibrato is good or bad. I don't use expression; I don't know how to start a piece; I have major bow-issues that we aren't even going to go into.
The Latin professor doesn't like Monty Python. I'm kind of surprised, actually. I don't think I've ever met anyone who knew Monty Python but didn't think it was funny.
My essay needs to be rewritten. Again. This third draft is only 3 pages, when it should be 5-7.
I don't know what's going on. I've been a zombie-like state since Saturday. I can't think at all. There is nothing in my head. I need to be prompted for everything. I can plan out everything -- where I need to be and when and with which books. I can very quickly dump one set of stuff and get the next and get moving again. But I can't think. I feel like I'm rushing around all the time, always on the verge of forgetting something. Always with something not done or not done well enough. It's only Tuesday, and this week has already lasted a million years. I can't even remember what I did on Monday, let alone the weekend.
The Old Norse for pervert: arg
(warning: the usefullness of this entry ceases now.)
Caffeinated coffee actually does affect me, now. Which is odd, because it didn't, at home.
When it comes to cello-playing, I can't. I was out-of-tune on the Popper; I can't even tell when hands are tense OR when my vibrato is good or bad. I don't use expression; I don't know how to start a piece; I have major bow-issues that we aren't even going to go into.
The Latin professor doesn't like Monty Python. I'm kind of surprised, actually. I don't think I've ever met anyone who knew Monty Python but didn't think it was funny.
My essay needs to be rewritten. Again. This third draft is only 3 pages, when it should be 5-7.
I don't know what's going on. I've been a zombie-like state since Saturday. I can't think at all. There is nothing in my head. I need to be prompted for everything. I can plan out everything -- where I need to be and when and with which books. I can very quickly dump one set of stuff and get the next and get moving again. But I can't think. I feel like I'm rushing around all the time, always on the verge of forgetting something. Always with something not done or not done well enough. It's only Tuesday, and this week has already lasted a million years. I can't even remember what I did on Monday, let alone the weekend.
