of my one-year endeavor.
What I anticipate to be a Sunday tradition, I spent all day in front of my computer attempting to finish, or at least make significant headway, on my paper due in just a few days, stressing, agonizing, procrastinating, sweating, envying, and mostly self-doubting. Struck once again by taking quick glances around and noticing the sluggish pace at which I work, I convinced myself of my inevitable failure in this programme, and tried to fight it--though ultimately was unsuccessful--with diligence and perseverance.
And as I recognize the end of this experience, I feel mostly as if I've not fulfilled it adequately. I never actually wrote two sentences a day, but updated in heaps of three or four or sometimes ten, looking back and fighting to remember, not letting myself rise above the sometimes overwhelming current of the quotidian.
Andrew's last blog summed up the experience with much more articulateness than I think I could ever muster, and so I lead you there to read his profound reflections.
Regardless of my resignations, I did update (mostly) everyday. And I did attempt to be as faithful as possible in an interesting way. It did challenge me to look harder and with more significance. It made my days seem so full of potential.
I hope I can look back later and appreciate it more than my current state allows me.
When that day comes, you may anticipate a cheerier farewell post...
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