This may just be me, but motivation, it seems, can be hard to come by. Staring into the face of essay titles that reflect historical trends, themes, ideas and time periods you never knew you could be so dis-interested in is a historical nuance, between what you thought you would study, and what you actually study.
In all fairness, closer observation of the course content would have alleviated some of this avid exasperation. However there is only so much information about a course any given institution will provide. What this means is that the darker corners of historical discourse will be in essence unavoidable, there will be in any course you take aspects which you do not enjoy. As with most things in life, you cannot have the good without the bad.
And it is here in which we find Procrastination, the compunction to do absolutely anything other than the task in hand. It is here that you reach a point of apathy, you re-tidy a room that was tided merely hours ago, you trawl the internet aimlessly without direction for anything that may distract you from the looming word count. You type countless amounts of words to anyone and everyone on Facebook, repeatedly find things to tweet and re-tweet only to realise you would now be finished if those words could somehow be translated across to your work.
It is at this point that I find myself in this very position. Struggling to motivate myself to analyse austerity in the 1950s, I have resorted to rambling. I go now to confront that wicked word Procrastination and finish my essay, print it off and hand it in before noon triumphantly and proudly, as if I was watching my first child stride through the doors of their first school, on their first day.