Skimming gulls & counting words

Wednesday’s freakishly warm weather has given way to true December. Time again to borrow the wisdom of gulls.

Remember when old December’s darkness is everywhere about you, that the world is really in every minutest point as full of life as in the most joyous morning you ever lived through; that the sun is whanging down, and the waves dancing, and the gulls skimming down at the mouth of the Amazon, for instance, as freshly as in the first morning of creation; and the hour is just as fit as any hour that ever was for a new gospel of cheer to be preached. I am sure that one can, by merely thinking of these matters of fact, limit the power of one’s evil moods over one’s way of looking at the cosmos. -William James

I’ve been enjoying TR’s “darkest journey” in The River of Doubt, a reality-check reminder that there’s menace lurking down at the mouth of the Amazon too. It’s not all skimming gulls. But that’s not the point here. Point is: take the damn weather with you.

Older Daughter’s neither a Gull (yet) nor an Anaconda, but a procrastinating Lynx. Her late-night tweets, entertaining though they were, remind me why I hate word counts and will never tell students precisely how long their essays should be.

It’s time for me to complain about the papers I’m writing through Twitter again. This first paper’s gotta be 1200 words. Let’s go.

WC:1159 I need 41 words. Can I just talk about how much writing this paper sucked for a bit and call it done?

 Remember that research paper rough draft? The final’s due at noon. WC: 1659/2500

 WC: 1659 I’ve been messing with the page numbers and bibliography for the past 45 minutes…

 WC: 1816 It’s a good thing I don’t have an exam tomorrow. Happy Friday all… Paper’s due in less than twelve hours.

WC: 1921 Roommate’s trying to go to sleep, but I’m just gonna sit here and type by the light of my desk lamp.  

WC: 2027 I’m thinking that I should have asked for a venti coffee rather than a grande. My eyelids are drooping. 11 hours til due. 

WC: 2152 I ain’t about this late night life. (It’s 1:30) My bed is calling my name. I’m coming bed, just let me put on my pjs. 

The other point is: stop procrastinating. But get some sleep first, hyper-caffeinated word-counted over-nighters are no fun to grade.

Yes, it’s grading time again. Not a moment too soon for that old-time gospel of cheer. Just don’t tell me how many more papers and posts and exams I’ve got to get through, I’m not doing it by the numbers. And make mine a Venti.

via Blogger


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