I'm sitting in the library at Hampshire College, forcing myself through a writing task that I've been struggling to get myself to work on. Today was a light day, orientation-activities-wise, so for the first time in a week I have a non-trivial amount of energy left at the end of the night and I can get myself to do some work -- any work -- on this task.
It's a nightmare. I didn't like this writing when I was at home, but here, now, in this context and in this setting, the contrast between the presence and proximity of work I want to do and this work that I have to do is almost intolerable.
It's like an hour's worth of work. The library is open until 10. I am honestly not sure that I will be able to finish before then. The emotional strain that comes along with this work means I have to take regular breaks, stop to vent (right now to my blog, but mostly to an otherwise blank text file) and just stare forward into space while I try to let an argument fade from my mind. Then I go back to work and try and hack three or four sentences through past the knot of the line that triggered that frustration, then take a break again, because I'm back down to zero energy for a moment.
I'm upset with myself that I can't do this without this emotional load, which is making it worse. I'm struggling to imagine the way this work will go accounting for my emotional state.
And I'm angry to be starting the semester here with work I hate this much.