It is like an overwhelming mist of academic terminolgy that makes me doubt I have anything original or valid to write about
or even if I care.
<sigh>
I would rather play a game with my children who come to the doorway and ask me so nicely, whilst I pretty much beg them to leave me alone so 'Mummy can work.'
Work? on what? an essay about something most people don't care about.
Who am I doing this for?
Even though I assert the process is to enable better job prospects to provide a decent life for the children, the truth is money has never been in my mind. It is the learning that I love. The books. The peeling layers away to discover pearls and grit and still want more. It is as marvelous to me now as it was when I first read a book on my own and realised I could read any book I wanted to.
But as for writing my own essay, well that is always a battle. I get there in the end but I take a few wounds before I hand it in. Six days to go.
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