Once upon a time it was the night before the start of my sophomore year of high school. As with all honors English classes, I had summer reading to complete by that first day. And, as with all honors English classes, I procrastinated as long as possible. That night, however, was my record. I wrote all 28 pages of the various assignments between 2200 and 0400 the next morning. That's just over four and a half pages per hour, not to mention flipping through books and whatnot. I got an A on every assignment, and one was even photocopied to be used as an example for the next year's class.
And last night and this morning I spent 15 hours on barely five pages. Of course, writing a critical discussion of William Manchester's A World Lit Only by Fire with a focus on disputing the author's assertion that Ferdinand Magellan was a "creature of his time" (early 1500s) is slightly more difficult than an "Othello" response journal or the other literary drool I churned out back then.
But still. 15 freakin' hours.
Where did my mad skillz go?
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