When I write an essay for uni, I actually want to write poetry. Something beautiful and moving, which will make the reader cry and laugh and change their career in a moment of ecstasy.
Of course, after weeks of panicking, I eventually research and write said essay in a day, lacking time to edit it and hand it in because the sleepless, irritable, disillusioned me has given up on attaining even mediocrity.
Sigh.
This particular one [on Bayesian statistics] is going a bit better, but there are still remnants of this mismatch between desire and task requirements.
