“Well this sucks …” -Penguins in Madagascar

When I read what I have of my paper so far, these are my thoughts:

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My paper is tragic and late and I don’t turn things in late and what is even happening.

My paper would be on time and fine and not sucky if I didn’t have to do research. Because really my opinions are better than research anyways. Jk. Not really. But seriously I am just having trouble finding legit sources that I could use in an academic paper. Partcipation trophies seems to be a war of parenting style and most of “sources” are blogs and opinion columns about the issue.

But the sources isn’t even the real problem. I have some good sources from two different credible newspapers so I can make something out of that. But I have simply lost all motivation to do anything. This entire unit I have felt swamped and school is slowly beating me like a pinata.

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Also, the “peer review” did not help. I felt my intro was fairly strong, but I wrote the rest of my paper in about two hours the night before our rough drafts were due and only one person gave me feedback, instead of the four people I should of had, and he told me to change Edison to Thomas Edison because some people might not know who I am talking about. Although I may be a strong writer, what I gave him to evaluate was the epitome of a shitty first draft.

Hopefully I will turn the paper in on Monday and hopefully I will feel confident in it and hopefully I won’t drop out of school. But we can never be too sure. So until then, enjoy this accurate representation of me and this paper … I bet you can guess which one I am

Me Getting My Ass Kicked by an Argument Paper

Ironic, Isn’t It?

Death provides an interesting insight into a new perspective of life. On one hand, you are devastated and crushed by the loss of a loved one, but on the other it is somewhat of a relief to know that one day the pain and suffering will end.  Burying my grandmother today was a whirlwind of emotions. I want so badly to be angry and upset with God, but scripture and Christian music are the only things keeping me sane as of now. Ironic, isn’t it? My grandmother had a disease in which the veins in her legs were unable to pump the blood back up to her heart which resulted in blood pooling in her legs. This led to sores that eventually became infectious. The medicine she took for the sores made her extremely sick, and the medicine she took for the sickness made her kidney fail, and the medicine she took for her kidney made her lungs close up, and the cycle continued. Ever think medicine has advanced too much for our own good? Ironic, isn’t it? A long, sad story short: my grandmother was on life support and given only a few hours to live, but her heart was so strong she made it 36 hours before we saw her heart rate hit zero. My dad says she knew what she was doing, and simply did not want to pick between my sister (a UA grad) and me this weekend during the Ole Miss – Alabama game. My dad always knows the right things to say. It’s hard to think about her not being there for my college graduation or my wedding or anything like that, but I know it’s selfish for those to be the things on my mind. Between the tears today at the graveside service, I saw my grandfather’s tombstone for the first time in 10 years. I think it is kind of morbid to visit cemeteries, and thus never went to visit him after his burial in 2006. As heart wrenching as it was to see Granny in a box, there was also a sense of peace that rushed over me when I got to see my grandparents side by side again. Ironic, isn’t it? I am positive I could use a 15 letter word to describe how I am feeling, but nothing seems as appropriate as sad. Just plain sad. When you die, you don’t get to take anything with you. So everything tangible she worked for for the past 71 years disappears. However, even though she is gone, I know she has touched my heart in a way that will last forever and thus makes her immortal. So maybe the only point of living is to impact the lives of others before you die. Ironic, isn’t it?