I cannot believe how long I have had to write this simple “3 to 4 page paper” and how little work I have gotten done. It is supposed to be a simple analysis of a certain poem. I would rather not name the poem, but I will just say that it is, without a doubt, the most annoying poem in all modern literature.
Now, normally I like to write good papers. Few people set out to write bad papers. I may not be quite academic journal material, but I usually try hard to find out my own twist on the work and back it up with solid, if sometimes unlikely, evidence. Of course, every once in a while, you find yourself in a tight spot. Either you were too busy with other classes to write it, or maybe your pet iguana was sick and you had to nurse it back to health instead of writing, or maybe you just got drunk one too many times over spring break and forgot all about it. Whichever the cause might be, at times we simple aren’t able to finish our research properly and must resort to outright BS’ing our way through page after page. I’ve done it a few times and have always found such a sense of relief for at least having handed in something.
Sadly, this paper that I am currently anguishing over deflects any and all attempts at BS’ing. It is impervious to all such attacks. This poem about some damn bird is slowly, but steadily, turning me into a big pile of gibbering mush.
I am not even sure why I find the poem so hard to analyze. It might be because of the gushing praise my professor gave the poem before the assignment. When reading it, I expected to find myself lifted up into the heavens by radiant beings of light; smiling at me approvingly for having learned some fundamental truth about the universe. Instead, I sat staring at the paper in front of me, wondering if maybe the professor had stapled the wrong poem onto the assignment sheet before sending it off to the copy room.
As I write this, it is 2:51 in the morning and I am preparing myself for another frantic session of sifting through the poem’s numerous stanzas in a vain quest for some transcendent experience. And in the unlikely case that my professor were to ever read this posting, I would like to sincerely thank him for causing me so much stress through his selection of poetry.
I have a feeling he did it just to screw with us since he’s retiring this semester and we’re among the last classes he’ll ever get to “challenge.”
Thanks again, Professor Waugh.
And screw you, Percy Bysshe Shelly!!!