it's all quiet...almost.

I've only about 24 hours or so to complete a 20-page essay on realism and state behaviour, officially due on Friday. Two hours ago, I started doing my readings for the paper. Reason: I had a public policy paper to do that is due later today, Thursday, one day before said realism paper is scheduled to be handed in. Policy paper is finished. That, on its own, is historically unprecedented by the way. As an unfortunate result, Realism paper is nowhere close to materialising. Not even a hint or a whiff or the slightest, vaguest, haziest notion. Nopers.

I sit here and think to myself, I should be panicking. I should be freaking out. I should be feeling abnormally high levels of anxiety, like I usually do in such situations. All the more since I'd asked Benny for an extension, swallowing my pride and being as pathetic as I can imagine myself to be short of literally grovelling on the floor, and was very politely rejected. The pain.

But instead, I feel strangely calm. Like the calm before a storm.

Edit at 2:37am: SirR who has almost finished his realism paper (he was on page 21 the last we talked 20 minutes ago and he was cursing over what he thinks to be 21 pages of rubbish...) keeps calling me to ask for my opinions regarding what he's written. I find the intense irony of this scenario superbly funny.

Edit at 2:09pm: I refuse to panic. I must not panic even when there are people who try to tell me I should. I must not give in to undue anxiety even though I have every reason to, given my current predicament. I must not allow the words of those who are done with their paper to send me into a frenzy. I must simply...keep on reading. God help me.