Oooh, look. Before I freak out because my rough draft is due in two days and my senior show keeps changing every critique period, I'm taking a deep, deep breath and grabbing a cup of coffee. And I'm evaluating. Aren't you proud?
I had my last critique. Nobody can offer me any more suggestions now, not unless I ask them. Deep breath. There's no way I can fail to complete the project. There's a way that yes, it could fail to be lovely and dramatic and captivating, but right now, I can't help that. Its effect on viewers will vary by temperament anyway. It's between them and the work, and at some point I need to at least pretend to let go.
I have a rough draft of the paper. The minimum-of-20-pages paper. It is not the correct length, yet, but neither is it utterly incoherent. And as of Sunday at least one person in my class hadn't even opened a word document for it. So I am not hopelessly behind. And Professor Perrin says that I've "figured out a way to outsmart the project," so that's good. Initially I was not in the least interested in the project. Now I am, mostly because I am talking about artists in it.
I've decided, though, that I don't want to be Daniel Finch any more when I grow up. There are a lot of things about his teaching style that I love and that I would like to borrow, yes, but I would rather be Professor Perrin when I grow up. Because she understands criticism very well (she's one of the most perceptive critics I know, which means I end up changing the most when she critiques my work) and she also understands encouragement (so even though I end up completely changing everything, I'm getting better and she always takes care to let me know that and that the seed of what I really wanted is coming through, somewhere).
And actually, maybe I just want to be me when I grow up, except perceptive and encouraging and critical all at once. And fun. Don't forget fun. And maybe eccentric like none other (I'm apparently well on my way to achieving that one).
As of now, my tentative plan is to leave on Sunday, March 16 for home. Get up horribly early, drive like a maniac (by which I mean perfectly safely but for a long period of time), get home, and then probably start doing more homework. But at my house, which is an important distinction.