Nothing in weeks. Nothing since recopying notes and formulating note cards and reading and highlighting chapters all took over my life and suddenly became so imperative and necessary and detrimental to having a flow of my creative juices.
Another final down. Two more to go.
I wish I felt more confident. I wish I felt less scattered and undisciplined and more at ease with things today, but I really don't. Once this is over, I have a series of essays to compile to send for a collection of scholarships for which I'm applying. I just hope to have some original thought, some new creative bug infect my mind and find its symptoms at the pace of my whispering fingertips along and around and over and into this small keyboard.
Sleep. Maybe more tomorrow. Unless the impact of Micro and Anatomy prep overtakes my obsession-oriented mind.
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