My life a few days ago:
My life this evening:
I MADE IT!
I don't want to really call myself a procrastinator because I feel like I worked my butt off all semester. Okay, maybe not that week that I saw 5 movies at the dollar theater. And yet, somehow I was left with a whole lot to do this past week. But as usual I pulled it off, with flying colors, if I do say so myself.
I have this great fear that life continues to get more busy and stressful the older you get, but somehow you can just handle more. Exhibit A: My parents. My Dad often hints that this is the truth, but he's still not giving me the full story so that I won't put off finishing school any longer than I already have!
I definitely know that I can handle a lot more stress now than say, high school, or even a couple of years ago. I was just waiting for the break down this week. The point where I am "100% positive" that I can't finish everything-an unacceptable realization for a Baird child. The tears never came, but there was one point where I completely lost it. Allow me to set the scene:
Monday night at 9:00 pm. I have been making books for the majority of the past three days. I'm finishing up my final book while watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. I arrive at the LAST STEP! and reach in my backpack for my salmon colored waxed linen thread that I had so responsibly purchased days before so as to avoid yet another fiasco buying materials at the more-often-than-not closed BYU stock room. But alas, where is my thread? This one piece of thread is what holds my book together. I begin calmly searching through my bag and then within minutes panic has set in. I miss the part in the movie where they finally stop being dumb and fall in love over a card game(what a perfect scenario). I'm tearing apart the house. It is nowhere to be found. Did I mention my book is due the next day, and I have another final in the morning, and again, who even knows when that dang stock room will be open. I begin praying, for thread. God must be laughing at me but immediately I know I have to go to the bookbinding studio. It has been my second home lately, so why not tear it apart as well?
It's now 9:45. I pull up to the scary warehouse to find a dozen cars in the parking lot. See, some people procrastinate more than I do. I walk in to find half my class hard a work. Normally, I would just snoop around and try not to draw attention to myself. But this was it, the break down. I walk into the room, mumble hello to some kid and then something takes over my body, I stop in the middle of the room, and quite loudly announce that I have something to say to everyone. They all pause and turn to look at me. I was like a movie. "Has anyone seen salmon waxed linen thread?" Without a word, about three people point to the corner of the room, where my beloved thread is on a table.
People said things to me but I was so happy that I don't remember what I said back. Thread has never looked so good.
The other day my boss said to me: "You poor art students." I accept that sympathy. But I love it! This semester was so hard, but so rewarding. Next week I'm onto the next adventure....computers. Wish me luck!