It's done. The rough draft, that is. All sixty pages of it. The thesis, I mean. "Thurber and Nugent's The Male Animal: A Neo-Aristotelian Criticism." Yep. DONE, BAYBEE. Sure, it's three weeks late, but we won't mention that part. My hands are killing me from being at the keyboard all weekend. I did the last twenty-two pages this weekend. TWENTY-TWO, you get that? I write like a beeyotch when it's on the line. Mind you, it's probably all crap. What do I know? My brain is total jello.
Now, I've got three weeks before the reading draft goes to committee and my advisor goes on a month's worth of vacation. That means he has three weeks to kick my ass into total submission while I rewrite this thing to his complete satisfaction. Oh joy.
Then, when he's done with the kicking, my committee gets to commence with the kicking. They get a month to kick. When they are done kicking, I defend the thesis.
Frankly, by then, I anticipate being so bruised and utterly defenseless, I don't know how I will defend anything, much less a master's thesis!
I love summer. And root canals. And eyeball piercings. And large wooden splinters under my fingernails.
Let us not get off message, though. . .that muthaluvin rough draft is DONE!
You have no idea how I have agonized over it. I have spent more time agonizing, much more, than I have actually writing. I would have been done months ago had I not agonized at all. But then, without the agony, that would have been someone else, not me.
DONE, I said!
I've actually learned a few words of ancient Greek in the process. This one is my fave: nemesan. It means indignation. I've felt that a few times over the last few months. Oh, yeah. Righteous nemesan.
I'm out. Laters.
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accomplished.
amused.
crappy.