It's only 12:28 AM. I'm near completion of the discussion of question one of two, which is, of course, the shorter of the two questions. But my strength has yet to flag. The potential beauty of my memo is still seductive. I am confident that I can both finish a great memo and have enough time to sleep for 6 hours before class tommorrow.
1:20 AM. First section done, though it took longer than it should have. I've had two mochas, two cokes, and some leftover barbecue. I've definitely felt better. But I'm going to keep going, and should finish before long. And as long as I get 4.5 hours of sleep, I'll be just fine.
1:41 AM. Just lost twenty minutes staring at my navel. Rapidly losing optimism.
2:30 AM. Definitely wishing I hadn't had the brisket. I ran out of soda and coffee a while ago, and have since moved on to snorting crushed No-Doze. I know I'm just hallucinating, but the Ghost of John M. Harlan the Elder is sitting on the couch, and he doesn't seem to be happy with my work product. This is definitely going to take a little while longer, but as long as I can get 3 hours of sleep, I should still be able to make it to class.
3:10 AM. Well into the second part of the discussion section. Got over the brisket problem, went to the fridge to finish off the potato salad. Going to have to rely on chocolate as a stimulant source from here on out, as Justice Harlan has finished off my No-Doze. I'm starting to notice some inconsistencies between my arguments in different parts of the memo, but I've also noticed some inconsistencies between what I read on the fortune-cookie fortune I got yesterday and what that same fortune now reads, so I'm not sure what to make of any of it. I've put on some Eliot Smith to keep things light and jovial.
5:00 AM. Nearly finished with the bulk of the discussion section, but conditions are deteriorating rapidly. There is no more potato salad, Justice Harlan has left, apparently taking my cat and fifty bucks with him, and the NY Times e-mail just showed up, letting me know that I've been up too long. I feel confident that this memo is better than the piece of gopher crap that I turned in last semester, but proofreading is becoming increasingly difficult. (When I'm tired, my eyes tend to automatically anagramize most proper nouns, which causes problems, particularly this morning, because I saw it fit to mention former V.P. Spiro Agnew when talking about the ABA, and as any Scrabble player worth their salt can tell you, Agnew's name is an anagram of "Grow A Penis." So I've been seeing a lot of penis.)
Obviously, sleep is now out of the question. But as long as I finish this discussion section within the next hour and make it across the street to get some more coffee, I should be able to turn in my memo on time without any difficulty.
6:20 AM. The discussion section is finished...but at what cost? I must have blacked out shortly after my last entry. When I came to, I'd gone from 4 pages to 14, but my walls were smeared with what appeared to be chicken blood, my laptop smelled of Gravity for Men, and instead of my usual jeans and t-shirt I was wearing Batman footie pajamas, which were, inexplicably, exactly the right size.
No matter. The only important thing is that the discussion section is done. I'm going to go outside now, sprint around my apartment complex, and do about 300 push-ups. After that, just gotta knock out the fact statement and conclusion. Then it will be done.
7:40 AM. It's finished, and just in time for me to make the bus. Barring some disasterous fucking disaster, I should get a good grade in this class. (Stay Tuned for Inevitable Entry: "Disasterous Fucking Disaster.")