A chupito is a shot. A shot, as we all know, is a small, but usually effective, dose of a drink. When R. came to the States, he did a little psychoanalysis (as he’s been known to do) and made a surprisingly accurate observation: “K., you are a chupito person.” He wasn’t referring to alcohol, as it was midday and we were on a walk. (Besides, if there’s one thing Spain taught me it’s that a glass of nice wine with homemade paella is far superior to any chupito out there.) Instead, he meant that I am a person who likes small doses of activity. I can’t do anything for any respectable extension of time.
While some of my grad school brethren come into [work-school] on Mondays to talk about their “whole day in the library” when they read X00 pages or wrote half of their term paper in one sitting, the mere thought of such a work schedule makes me shudder. I have an internal timer set to two hours; after that, time is up and so is my ability to concentrate.
Knowledge is power though; I have never left an entire paper to write in one weekend. Now that the writing is more plentiful (and frankly, more demanding), I have to start even earlier. I’m pleased to report that my plan is working (so far. knock on wood). I’ve written a page or two a day this week and now I’m about half-way through my first Big Kid Paper. Today, for example, I took a chupito of time in the morning to do laundry, another chupito to have a tea and write a page, the next to have lunch, talk to T. and go for a walk, and then and only then was I ready to write my next page, to take my next chupito.
(Here’s where I posted up for my second writing session today.)