AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I can’t stand this anymore! I am writing this damned dreaded d. and all the time, in the background of my mind, there is this constant struggle, like two gladiators swinging things at each other. In my last tutorials, which went well following the approval of the fairy godmother, I was told to prepare a new draft for the 3rd of March – which is this Friday. Now, I don’t argue anymore, so I marked it in my diary. I will no point out that I have very very VERY rarely not met a deadline in my life, and on those occasions that I have not, it was truly beyond my own individual powers to make it happen. This is going to be then my first unmet deadline which is not being met because I simply did not manage to do everything expected of me.
Hurrah!
Now, being pregnant has slowed me down, but I’m still writing at a pace of 2500 words a day, and also quite interesting stuff if I do say so myself, so I can’t blame everything on my hormones. What I can do is try and understand how this has happened, and possibly try to find out why.
Being naturally paranoid and a tad resistant to authority, I would begin by looking the how these qualities have collided with the educational methods of the HOD staff. For one, I was told not to complete an entire draft, but basically to leave the theoretical bits aside and concentrate on two historically-inclined chapters which I have not yet dealt with in depth. This made me naturally nod during the tutorial and anxious that evening. I have my processes, and unfortunately, at the age of 32, habits are hard to break. They do not include dropping a philosophical-conceptual inquiry in the middle to concentrate on what someone else thinks is more important at the moment. So, after complaining for a whole evening to Isaac, with his encouragement, I decided to do what I think needs to be done, ignoring both the instruction to concentrate on the historical chapters first and my unreasonable deadline.
And here we reach the second issue which relates to my paranoia. Why would a tutor give a student what is clearly an unreasonable deadline? And this after I had, of my own discipline and accord, submitted a 21, 000 word draft after Christmas? I am obviously not an looser or a flake. I obviously have some ability to discipline myself and produce writing by the kilo.
The answer lies, I believe, in the power relations promoted by the institution of our course. Giving a dealine-freak like myself an unreasonable deadline, accompanied with instructions of how to reach it which counter my best judgment is humbling. As if to say ‘who cares if you wrote 21, 000 words over Christmas and had a great WIP presentation in which someone external in fact opposed all of the fears we have been trying to instill in you, so what if you have almost never missed a deadline – WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU LITTLE BED-WETTING SNOT-NOSED STUDENT!’
And I do feel a little like that now. Again, I am confronted with the idea that I am a failure, that I can’t do what any Luisa or Elainie or heaven knows what manages to.
Oh well. Cest la vie. Also, Ce nest pas une pipe.