"Postcolonial Family Planning: The Heredity of Desire in J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace and Waiting for the Barbarians."
I came up with the title three weeks ago, have been composing the paper in my head for two weeks, and today I have to write it for realz. And it's sunny out. I'm locked in the library where it is supposed to be quiet, but the guy in the study room next to me is rocking some loud R&B, and out in the hall is a convention's worth of doulas and nutritionists all talking in the animated but knowingly serene voice reserved for the discussion of crunchy child-rearing. Conditions are not optimal.
Still, I'm confident I can get 6-8 pages out by 2:00 so we can drive out to the hippie drum circle May Day celebration I saw advertised at the coffee shop this morning. I will have to cross my fingers as I type.