I am at constant war with myself when it comes to school work. My inner (and dominate) perfectionist has very little respect for any time goal that I might set for myself.
This semester I have been trying my best to just turn in what I have. Even if it is utter rubbish. Even if I know that I could do better given more time. I am just trying to make sure that I have a some excuse for a finished product to turn in.
So far I have been doing relatively well at this.
Then I got assigned a group project for Art History.
In general, I am all for creative collaboration and I can do less creative projects if the people involved simply sit down together and hash it out as a group. Doing that may take some time, especially for a research paper, but it can be just, an few hours spread over a couple days, or all in one go and be done with it.
Due to seriously inconvenient timing and the fact that nobody wants to bother with that sort of big intense push, we only had one solid sit down. Tomorrow, Friday, the six of us will arrive at class, each with an essay on a subtopic that fits under the general theme of "Ancient Roman Theatre". We will slam all of out two-page summaries together with magic, glitter, and rainbows (and a staple). Tada! A completely disjointed work. Did I mention that we must give a presentation? We must give a presentation. I severely dislike giving presentations.
And right about NOW is the point when that persnickety little voice inside of my head would like to let me know, out of the kindness of it's wee little heart, that these people will not like me at all if I fail them. These THEATER people who are all farther along in school than I am, will think of me as slow and dim witted and if they remember me past friday, they will always remember how I let them down. How my segment cost them the full project points, and how it was me who fucked them over.
The result being that they will tell their peers that I am incompetent and I will never get a job in my field ever, ever again.
Commence freak out in typical lip-biting, hair-tugging fashion.
When I was in high school, I would generally just whip out some massive bullshit completely last minute and stutter and blush my way through the presentation portions due to extreme stage fright and nerves.
When I was at UofA this would have been about the part where I run for the hills, call out sick, email in some crappy excuse, or just not show up and not say why at all. Yep, for one full school year, I was that partner. I'm not proud of it. It wasn't that I didn't give a monkey's arse at all, it was that I didn't care enough about where I was going to not fun away from the pressure.
-Minor note to add in: I accidentally extended the essay two more pages and, though hurried and freaking out, managed to give a vaguely informative presentation. Yay me.
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