This is excellent!!! I'm slowly turning into an anglophile.
And now for some USDA Grade-A melodrama ala moi...
I’m on the cold precipice of March, just wavering between the frozen Chaos of winter and the balmy stillness of spring. Tonight I feel agitated, excited, stressed and buzzing with a thousand competing ideas. The neurons and synapses are buzzing with the electricity of deadlines, dreams, exaltations, caffeine and also dread. The dread is invested in the fast-approaching essays and presentations that will come after spring break. Unfortunately many things ride on these tangible demonstrations of academia, and this scares the living hell out of me. The Machine of OCD and its incessant static thrives off the fuel of insurmountable pressure. I always feel like an intruder on the halls of academia—a farce, a clown under intellectual guise. This feeling of inefficacy makes scholarly writing that much harder because I’m constantly grappling with myself.
