Freaking Out May Become My Hobby

According to my writing tutor, Professor Jem Poster (works available at all independent, low-scale book stores), my Writing Project is ready for collection. Trouble is, I don't want the fucking thing back. I've spent the whole of University doing as little work as possible just to get through because, as I mentioned in the previous post, I'm a lazy cow. Sometimes I get all excited about a challenge, come up with a million ideas and then never follow it through. Take the Writing Project for example, I had all my ideas ready for it last summer but then as the months went by I went off the plot I had planned and by March I scrapped the premise completely. Then I had to grab onto any thread of thought I could and tug at it until 4,000 words of prose came out. Then I hurried to write the commentary where you have to explain every little bloody choice you made when writing your piece and I can usually never remember so I just bullshit for another 2,000 words. Then I bullshit about what other authors influenced me (like Virgina Woolf, ha! The only thing she would influence me to do is kill myself) but they ain't never pulled me up on it so far so fingers crossed.

I think I'm fretting about it more than I should because I've always had it down as a huge deal but I think it's only 2.9% of my total grade. Mind you, saying all this, I've never been one for worrying too much so that completely backtracks on the title of this post. My Mum says she reckons I've been here before in another life because I'm so laid back but more on that at another time. Maybe if I worked harder at things I'd be more concerned over the result. I feel guilty because my parents always say, "Well as long as you tried your best,". Maybe 'my best' is just getting through it, I suppose there was so much more I could've done but it's too late now. Ugh, this totally the way my life is heading: career, marriage, kids - could have tried harder. I do slave away at these blogs though, it's a mystery to me...