You may have noticed that I haven’t written in a while.
Don’t worry. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s not that I don’t like writing. It’s not that I died.
It’s because of papers. Silly papers. Silly, horrible papers. Silly, horrible, accursed papers. Papers most unpleasant.
Last Monday, I turned in a paper on the response of the American news to the Rwandan genocide in 1994. Last Friday, I turned in a paper about Haitian Vodou (or voodoo, as Americans spell it). Today, I turned in a paper about the religious significance of the word “fear” in the Doctrine & Covenants. Today, I got the first draft of the Rwanda paper back from a professor, and I’m turning in the final on Wednesday. Thursday, I’m turning in a paper on the conflict and/or blending of traditional and modern medicine in Africa, specifically relating to childbirth.
Am I stressed? Yeah, probably.
But it’s all going to be okay. Because I have a secret weapon: one that is sure to propel me forward into the week of finals in the midst of a chocolaty cloud of success and glory.
It’s not coffee. It’s not even caffeinated.
It’s chocolate milk. I have a whole tub of that chocolaty powder, and it is absolutely ridiculous how much milk I have gone through in the past few days. The inner health freak in me is screaming. The inner two-year-old is grinning ear to ear.
And a part of me is grateful for the papers, because it gives me an excuse to let the two-year-old win the fight. ♦