End of the Semester Baby

I was talking on the phone with a friend of mine recently about The Omega Child. I was insistent that I was nervous, but he pointed out that I wasn't sounding nervous or overwhelmed about it. While struggling to describe my type of nervousness, I was able to find a familiar anxiety in my past. The end of the term paper.

And when else will you learn to keg stand?

What happens with a semester in college is that you come to class and get your syllabus on the first day.  At the end of the syllabus, an ominous and long project/paper including certain formatting and reference requirements looms over the entire term. So you stuff it into your folder and say to yourself, "I'll go to the library next week and get started on it." But at least for the first 4-5 weeks (let's say this is September), you usually don't. There are parties, sports events, socials, and occasionally classes that you have to attend.  Plenty of time to worry about that paper later.



The next 5-9 weeks involve some sporadic research, checking out resources, and maybe highlighting some points. You've usually survived a midterm at this point, but really there's still plenty of time and more importantly a bitchin Halloween costume you need to work on and probably some really dark poetry you have to write about a failed relationship.

November is the point where your denial hits its stride. You likely have one month left, but also that 4-5 day Thanksgiving weekend gap in your schedule. On paper it looks like a lot of time.  Plenty of time to finish a project. Little did you know that traffic, family, and a cold would knock you down. Now your paper still isn't done and where's your precious Thanksgiving now? Nowhere!


And thus enters... December. Yes my pet, you have waited far too long. Now you have finals AND a paper! There's a slight chance you might be able to get an extension on your project, but that's leaving your destiny in the hands of a potentially merciless professor. No. It's sleepless nights in the library for you now.  You'll either write that paper at the last minute and succeed with a brilliant grade or a library stack will fall on you one night while sleeping there, horribly disfiguring you and forcing you to find a secret tunnel under the library where you will live as the Phantom of the Library, playing a pipe organ as a warning for all future slacker students!

Most universities have underground
pipe organs for this purpose

So, I think that clears things up pretty well about how I view the stress of pregnancy. Either I'll be there for H and the kid or I'll be living in subterranean storm tunnels as a semi-allegorical creature of legend. Wish me luck!