Writing a damn paper

Ugh. More complaining!

Ok, not really. This one really isn't that bad. I am just writing my first paper. It is, in theory, fucking awesome. The idea was mine, I designed and performed every damn experiment for the thing, and I am writing it. It's my first first-author paper. Woohoo!

In practice, though, it's semi-horrible. I work much better with a gun to my head. In fact, I've done my best work under atrocious conditions - and I have the gray hair to prove it! For this, though, there is no deadline except for "soon." That is just not working for me.

I can't tell you how many times I have toted my reference papers and photocopies of my results from the lab, to my home, and back to the lab again without even taking them out of the binders. They just look at me over the weekend, taunting me. I keep thinking, "I should be working on my paper." Torturing myself. Over and over. I always end up watching some stupid crap on TV and feeling guilty when I stroll in to the lab, late, as usual, on a Monday morning.

So I've made a deadline for myself. I have ten days to finish the first draft. With hope, this goal will make the transition from arbitrary deadline to a proverbial gun to the head and I will accomplish the task.

The outlook? Not so good. I foresee several all-nighters in the murky future, or endless streaming waves of guilt. Awesome.