Tips on how to worsen your insomnia #2

Assignments have long existed, be it a Troglodytical woman looking out for her Neanderthal young or a stressed out student trying score a distinction. Many of these so called assignments, have even been carried out in groups. Which brings me to the first part of this 'article', call it what you may.

Group work. As I write this I imagine a gathering of youths humming the phrase in a distasteful manner, lighting somewhat dim and Burtonesque. That's right, dear reader. Group work may be seen as your lack of sleep's worst nightmare. Or one of. Should it actually have any, but let us not turn this into a discussion of metaphorical sorts. You see, what I fail to understand is how a simple 500 word essay is, firstly, expected to be so heavy a burden that it must be shared between 5 people, and finally, taking the aforementioned into consideration, I also appear to be blind towards what makes such a task so difficult. It's not like the assignment involved a hunting trip. In this case one could understand the intricacy of pre-planned roles. A designated pack leader, someone who is vocally talented and capable of producing a convincing mating call, the actual hunter- preferably with a bloodstained leopard skin hanging off his shoulder- and of course of the formerly mentioned hunter's slave or 'bitch'.

Allow me to shed some light on my disdain. Group work is generally granted to those chores which can not be carried out single handed. Chores so difficult that they may lead to psychological distress on the perceiver's end. Chores so difficult and distressing that one might snap at the weight of even trying to understand them. Chores so difficultly distressing and encumbering that--You get my point. So my question to you, kind sir or madam is a simple, basic 'WHY?'. Why must I write something of O' Level standard as part of a peer job? Beauracracy seems quite fitting an answer. I somehow doubt that cave-men had to deal with the stuff.

If we were in a film studio, the director would appear angrily in front of me silently swabbing his fingers over his fat, hairy wrist in a circular motion. He would be seen gritting his teeth, red eyes bulging out of their sockets, cheeks sunken in. This would be his way of saying that it's time for me to stop procrastinating.

                                                          Director would probably look similar.

So, I shall do just as the imaginary man in my head wishes- It is after all 12.30am, but I guess that just goes to show how assignments could add to your uncanny sleeping patterns.

Fare thee well, darling, neglected.

V.