Ted Williams and Plato

So I've spent the last two days feverishly preparing to write a philosophy paper that was due on Friday. I hope to have it finished by Tuesday morning. The process has surprised me. I'd forgotten what it felt like to come up with an idea in response to someone else's thoughts. I enjoy doing it while I'm doing it, then forget about it as soon as I'm done. So everytime I write a paper, there's a point at which I go, "Hey, I don't hate doing this at all. I'm actually pretty good at it, come to think of it." Yet during the prolonged periods of procrastination that have always been the real hallmarks of my scholarly "career," I'm constantly thinking that I do hate it.

Nothing to do but soldier on, one man against his demons, tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

That's Shakespeare, by the way. I'm Dr. Chuck. And I'm going to bed.