Deadlines. Deadlines everywhere.

As explained by Disney’s Toy Story, because who could explain it better?

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I have my last deadline for my final project coming up in two weeks. I have to make 40+ clay vessels for an installation that will be my final piece and presented in my exhibition.

However, while training Isaac this morning, I hurt my right hand. Isaac bolted towards a dog who was running past him & in an attempt to stop him, I grabbed at his long training lead. Safe to say I got severe rope burn and have my hand bandaged.

For anyone, losing the use of their right hand is pretty inconvenient. But for an art student this is disastrous, bordering on traumatic! So it’s safe to say my stress level has increased considerably in the last hours and has left me feeling much like this:

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If that wasn’t bad enough, I have an essay to continue which could be easily written with my very slow left hand. But procrastination has set in. Leaving me slumped on my bed against my gigantic Eeyore, surrounded by pillows and teddy’s for comfort. Safe to say I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I know when I go to college tomorrow, my tutors and friends will greet me with:

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Which will undoubtedly be followed by:

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No sympathy will leave their lips but this response is understandable considering the situation and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree. I am worse than a pea brain. I am possibly the unluckiest person I know.

So for the rest of the day I will feel sorry for myself in the haven I call my bed. And maybe, just maybe, finish all this work before my deadline. Maybe, I’ll start tomorrow.

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