|Clara holding the TARDIS in siege mode.|
I turned in one research paper on Monday, but here's the timeline for what I've got left:
Due tomorrow: A survey for my research paper.
Due Friday: A 7-page comparison paper.
For Saturday: I'm out of town all day.
Due Monday: A 12-15 page research paper.
Due Tuesday: A fancy portfolio and short presentation (both group work).
Like the TARDIS in siege mode, I feel like my world is shrinking down and cramming itself into a small, dense cube that defies space-time parameters as we know them.
Actually, the siege mode TARDIS is an interesting thing. Already damaged, it's pretty much helpless at this point- the Doctor (stuck inside) has no power to restore the TARDIS to its normal functionality, to say nothing of size and shape, and even if he did, he has no way of determining when it is safe to do so. He also can't help at all, except by relaying a few words of encouragement - and doom - to Clara through the failing communications system.*
So think of it this way: My schedule over the next seven days is basically the siege mode TARDIS - a tidy, cool-looking, trapped, stressful cube decorated in undecipherable writing. I'm obviously Clara, the one who has to figure out how to save the day despite all the odds.
Doctor Who: Metaphors for life.
*This is from the season 8 episode Flatline, which was awesome.