It's the End

Marathons began. Late nights, over-nights, sleepless nights. They made our attention levels go down, leading directly to memory decrements. Emotional arousal and valence levels fluctuated like stock market prices, and the eyes were dry of moisture. But there were good snorts. Jokes. Some hilarious parts. Some passive smoke. But the paper was looming on the screen, a product of our minds, too big to control, but too important to ignore. It seemed to go on and on forever.

The wording never seemed right. The hypothesis always sounded screwed-up. The referencing? (de Cockburn, M. I., 1981.) That seemed to be thrown into citation hell. What were the findings anyway? The interactions spun out of control and into Meaningless Dimension. He went on about "tightening" and "finessing" and "rephrasing". (I need more vagueness, please.) Why was it so difficult? Will it ever be over?

Yes. The day of submission. Groupmates and I gain strength from our possibly 4-hour sleep in 2 days. There is spring in my walk. I think of shaving. It's going to be over, finally!

But wait. He said something. Too many things.

What? Changes? New graphs? That means new citations... new paragraphs... needs more time... But it's 4 hours to submission time! Bloody hell man! Why didn't you tell us earlier? What, why are you smiling? AAAr -!!

But we can do it. We do it. We do it. We did it. Queue. Run. Print. Bind. Run. Where's the envelope. Ah, all ready. Here you go, 8 minutes before deadline. All done. All tightened, finessed, rephrased, referenced, bollocks. Can I have my life back? Maybe.

It's the end. For a while.