Senioritis: A near-deathly disease

Senioritis. Must I go into generic musings on how this disease afflicts college seniors feeling they are looking too old to not already be in the "real world," high school almost-grads wanting one more adolescent summer, --heck, even preschoolers anxious to get out of a school that makes them sit on weirdly-colored squares of carpet for singing time--?

My senioritis has hit hard. With only four more weeks of the semester, I am starting to care less and less about schoolwork. The greatest evidence of this has been the clearly shoddy essays I've been turning in.

A paper was handed back to me today with the following note:

Dear Rebecca,

You write well, and this little essay is a pleasure to read. I say "little" because, obviously, the essay is on the short and under-supported side--the natural result of reformulating the project at the tenth or eleventh hour. You get away with a lot on sheer talent. (I mean that as praise and not as a jab.)

(NOTE: Rest of paper feedback removed for the interest of the blogger, or perhaps my own refusal to bare ALL my writing errors).

Thanks for the good read,
BYU professor

This professor was far too generous in his/her grading (the old softie). I literally started this assigned 6-8 page paper at 9:00 the night before, and only produced 5 pages of generic rambling-- something about poetry and science and how literary scholars probably all failed high school chemistry and so have no right to act like they like science now.

How did my professor know I started my paper so late?? Technically, it was the twenty-first hour, but I suppose he/she was speaking metaphorically.

And more importantly, how am I going to kick this senioritis? I better figure it out soon, or in fifty years, I will be a senior citizen looking forward to death.