Feeling: pressured
Listening to: Counting Crows - Colorblind
Reading/Watching: Acorna's Rebels, by Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Scarborough

Diaryland keeps magically transplanting me twelve hours into the future every time I post an entry. See? It's 4 in the afternoon on the 18th right now, but somehow I have been teleported to tomorrow morning. Satan will be upset that I missed his party tonight.

Today the Honor's department head (and also my work-study boss) asked me unsubtly about whether he could expect a draft of my thesis on his desk on Monday. I passed it off by saying I wouldn't be here Monday (insurance rules decree I go to a dentist in Hometown), but he smiled and gently hinted that I really, really needed to work on the thesis and turn it in two months ago.

Trying to stumble across a couple empty weekends to work on it isn't going to fly, so I think I need to set aside days in the next month where I go nowhere and do nothing to finish the first draft.

Obviously it can't be this weekend, because Nimsay and I are seeing Constantine tomorrow, and Satan's family is in town for the first time since I've known him (which is going on three years), and events have already been planned.

I'm thinking it would help to transport my work (as it is thus far) to the office computer at work, so that I can work on it when I'm already dull with nothing to do, and not feel pressed for time later in the evening. That, and I'm going to set aside spring break for a nine-day solid push to get it completed. Once I have a draft, it shouldn't be too hard to pinch and press the ideas into shape. I tend to get things right the first time...

...Writing-wise, anyway. With the rest of life, five or six (million) repetitions may be required.

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