I mean, okay, sure I can take the deluge of reading and writing that happens at the end of the semester (especially when, *cough* I've maybe not kept up as much as I should have in some of my classes *shame*).
And even seperate from that I can take the fic deadlines, and the present deadlines, and the needing to decide what I want/don't want so I can give that information to my family. (I'm terrible at holidays/birthdays. People say, "So what do you want?" and I say "You know. Stuff." which is weird, but I have a thing about asking for things. I always feel really weird and demanding and imposing, even when my birthday is coming up. I offer no logical explanation, only my neuroses.)
But put the two together, shake well, and serve with garnish, and you have a molotov cocktail of stress. I want no part in it! None! Not a single part in it! Take it away from me! *covers face and falls back onto a divan in a swoon*
Especially because --
yuletide? *laughs really really really hard* It's funny how that's due so soon. And I haven't even *touched* it. Yes, yes, my yuletide fic will be a thing of wonder, my brethren. Only because it will, hopefully, exist. And that will be a miracle. A real, honest to God, Christmas miracle. "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus," and all that jazz.
Oh, here's another thing: anyone out there besides me deeply scarred by Vol. 2 of The League of Extraordinary Gentleman? That went a way I was definitely not expecting, I'll tell you that.
So, I need to go do work. Mainly all I can manage is a good, heavy duty stare at my work. That's a lot like writing my papers, I feel.
Here's a fun meme, gakked from the one, the only, the
musesfool: Next round of drinks is on me. What are you having? 