I spent most of today (well, the parts not spent having brunch and walking back from brunch) locked in the spare bedroom, writing an assignment.
"But Lucas!" I hear you posit. "You aren't taking an courses or classes! What gives with the assignmenting?"
That's true. I'm actually finishing assignments for a course put on by work that I began in early 2008. It's a course whose last assignment was due in May of 2009.
Now, when it came to assignments in school, or university, or the various tertiary courses I've taken (be it work-based, or my advertising stuff at TAFE), I alays try to be my best. One memorable work-based-course-presentation was supposed to be 10 minutes. I overprepared and went for 25, although if they hadn't had a stopwatch, I don't know if they would have noticed (no bragging, that was my feedback). I like being able to pit my brain against something and put a project together.
But I don't know. Something happened with this course. I liked the presenters, the subject matter was relevant to my work, but somewhere along the line it stopped being important to me to do the assignments. I got the knowledge, I participate in class, I took notes, but once I was home, I had no motivation or drive to complete things, let alone complete them well. The last assignment I turned in late, incomplete and didn't think about it again.
That is, until the presenter showed up at work in June with a paper full of notes and corrections with a big legend across the top saying "Not Competent". I took it, saying I'd try again (I couldn't even lie and say I had tried. We both knew I had half-assed it).
I put the assignment on my desk at home and there it sat for 8 long months. I didn't think of it again. I'd occasionally look at it, but the only emotion I could raise was a sort of impotent anger towards "fake assignments about fake meetings" that even I know what bogus and childish.
Eventually, as they were wrapping up the course (they're revamping it next month), the presenter got around to marking some of my old assignments and emailing me the results, full of glowing praise about my written composition, the structure of my arguments, and my in-class participation. I do not pretend that ego did not play a part in what followed. Guilt was also there. It had snuck without paying while the show was starting and snuck in a bag out outside peanuts to throw at the screen.
I responded to the email, thanking the presenter for his marking my paper, and complimenting him on his new beard that I had seen him sporting.
Should have seen it coming.
He responded with thanks, then... "Oh, by the way, I'm still waiting on Module 8, as well as parts of Modules 4 & 6. It's been months If you don't turn them in by the end of this week (it was Monday), we'll be forced to mark you not competent and you'll need to start the course over again."
Well, shit. Part of my new slacker personality wanted me to just go "Fuck it, let 'em fail you." but there was enough of the old overachiever in me to respond in the affirmative, asking for a list of what I was missing from each assignment, so I could sort them out by the end of the week. Yes, by Friday.
The presenter responded by explaining that I'd missed out on small-to-medium bits of 4 & 6, but all of 8 needed to be redone, preferably using his notes.
"No problem", says I. "I still have the copy you gave me in June." He took the opportunity to tell me that he was rather disappointed in me, since I was clearly good enough to do this, and I was the first to hand the assignment in, and now the last to finish. Thanks, Dad.
So Tuesday night, I sit down and I clear off assignment 4. Then I prep assignment 6 to do later at work (since that assignment is about meetings and one-on-ones and I had based my prepartion and reflection on imaginary meetings, the part I was missing was, you know, the meetings).
I also noticed that I couldn't find the copy that the presented had returned to me with his notes. I also couldn't find the book of data from that lesson that was necessary to do the report. Non-plussed, I emailed the presenter, saying that if he could, could he bring me a copy with his notes and another booklet, or I could go pick it up before work.
Felt good about myself.
So good, that when I came home from work Wednesday night, I sat down with Tanja after dinner and watched a bunch of Madmen. I remarked on the way to bed that I hadn't done any assignment work, but it's okay, I'd do the hard yards Thursday night, and hand it in to the presented on Friday, right on time. I put the stuff I'd finished into my bag to bring to the presenter at the other office in my lunch break sometime this week. He hadn't emailed me about the booklet/notes, so I sent him (and another presenter, for good measure) another email saying that if he wanted the assignment done by Friday, I was willing, but I needed him to help me out.
Oh yeah, and did I mention? On Wednesday I got a flu shot.
Thursday I was sick. Really sick. Like wake up at 4 am to throw up kind of sick. II didn't go to work, I didn't think about the assignment, I just laid in bed and literally (with no hyperbole, superlatives, or exaggeration) cried, and willed myself to stop hurting and not die.
Friday arrives. I've shaken the flu. My immune system for the freaking win. I go to work and find an email from the presenter saying "Hi Lucas, yes, you can come get the booklet and my notes whenever you like." Also, the second presenter that I'd emailed, whom I've known for longer, stopped by the office to needle me about the assignment, um, I mean, to say hi. Actually, I'm making it sound callous, he was actually really nice and cool as he always is, and just gave a gentle reminder that these assignments should be a snap for me (again, ego). I called the first presenter and said I'd be over in my lunch break to get the booklet & notes. I head over there (about a 20-minute walk, in the rain. He calls when I'm just outside his office to say "Don't worry, I'll be over at your office, I'll bring it."). So I get the details from him, and give him assignment 4, completed. I make an offhand comment about how it's really quite tough filling in the blanks on an assignment I did in June of '08, and frankly, didn't give my best effort to then. I found it hard matching the more-complete answers with some of the sketchier stuff I'd put in earlier."
Should have known that was laying it on a bit thick.
"Well, you know, Lucas, I'd prefer if you you didn't write stuff out of context. I mean, if you need a few more days to rewrite it all and make it good, then that's fine."
*deep breath*
A FEW MORE DAYS??!
It's okay, I'm calm. He put the guilt boot in a few more times, and I left.
I wrote up his comments in Lucas-speak on Saturday, so I'd know where to start. I would have done more work, but Tanja had decided she felt like cleaning and was doing this thing where she talks to what she's cleaning. "Oh, well, that's no good, is it. It's so dusty!" It makes it hard to concentrate.
Also, I was distracted by internet.
Anyway, wrapping up, I sat down today and did it. The whole thing. And it was fine. Actually, now that I knew I was writing for content, I expounded a bit more than I usually would on a business-report-style format. The questions that had frustrated me previously were much easier, thanks to the practice I have now with handling metrics and strike rates at work. Frankly, as I said to the presenter, I'm a different team leader now than I was then. Admittedly, the math I used was different to what they wanted, but I got there in the end.
So now I'm in a frenetic writing mood. I left two loooong and one longish comment on blogs, and now I've written one of my own. It's not too long, though.
...
...
What?!?
On the way I passed some protesters or picketers or something. I dutifully took a photo of them and made it into a tiny planet, but did not slow down. 
I don't go straight up to him, of course. No, instead I imitate the action of the young man attempting to ask out a girl/rob a bank, I made a full pass around the store, then bought the TPB of Fell (as well as the new Fables for Tanja), chatted with the clerk about how I'd "better buy this before he signs it, ha ha." Then I walked over. The person before me was talking, so I took a moment to leaf through the sketches and art he had for sale. I was fixing to buy one until it occurred to me that the "1600" written on the baggie might not be an in-a-hurry-way to write "$16.00" but might in fact be "$1600.00" and I was afraid to ask. I decided I would go with some colour prints that were clearly labelled "$20". Then it was my turn. I proffered my Fell book, and asked for a print. When he asked for my name, I told him it was Lucas. He brightened: "You're the guy from Twitter! You have purpose!" I would have like to have reacted well. However, being me, I freaked the fuck out. The rest of the time was spent chatting with the lovely lady next to him whose name I did not know (girlfriend? Iunno.) as she noticed I was Canadian and she was from Alaska. Ben pointed out that technically Canadians are Americans, as they are from the continent of North America. I jumped in saying he was technically correct, "the best kind of correct!". Then I left, feeling that I had overplayed my hand a little. I only realised when I was halfway back to work that I had not given him the $20 for the print. 
So Mr. Templesmith. Ben. I apologise for geeking out all over you. And I will mail you a shiny Australian $20 bill for the print. Sorry I couldn't be cool. You're just too awesome.
