Dear Dissastertation...
Dear Dissastertation,
I hate you.
I feel like I have already written you many times over. And then I go to my computer, and you are still there. Only 1,600 words out of a minimum of 12,000. And instead of focusing on you, and your repetitive nature, and the fact that you will undoubtedly be reduntant and nothing more than pure regurgitation (as I have been instructed not to be original in the least), I find myself considering what I will do once I am finished writing you. What will I achieve in this new found freedom and spare time with no income and sparse savings? What will fill my day? Currently, it is filled with staring at a blank Word document and watching re-runs of "Matlock" and wishing I was as charming as Andy Griffith. Or second guessing myself about ways I have acted in the past two weeks. Or realizing that my eyes are a dead give-away to all my thoughts, and that if I am unable to look someone in the eye, then there must be something I do not wish them to see.
I am very tired of this existence, Dissastertation. I would rather feel productive and feel that I can write something unique and meaningful in you. And that I can be interesting and intelligent. However, I find myself distracted with all these things that mean nothing in the long run - which results in little motivation for me to complete you.
Today,I thought about falling off Waterloo bridge in order to not have to write more. Or pretend to write more.
I've lost my direction and reason for doing this degree, apparently. It's fairly disheartening since I'm so close to the end.
Okay, enough distraction. Back to work...
"Demeter and Kore...."
I hate you.
I feel like I have already written you many times over. And then I go to my computer, and you are still there. Only 1,600 words out of a minimum of 12,000. And instead of focusing on you, and your repetitive nature, and the fact that you will undoubtedly be reduntant and nothing more than pure regurgitation (as I have been instructed not to be original in the least), I find myself considering what I will do once I am finished writing you. What will I achieve in this new found freedom and spare time with no income and sparse savings? What will fill my day? Currently, it is filled with staring at a blank Word document and watching re-runs of "Matlock" and wishing I was as charming as Andy Griffith. Or second guessing myself about ways I have acted in the past two weeks. Or realizing that my eyes are a dead give-away to all my thoughts, and that if I am unable to look someone in the eye, then there must be something I do not wish them to see.
I am very tired of this existence, Dissastertation. I would rather feel productive and feel that I can write something unique and meaningful in you. And that I can be interesting and intelligent. However, I find myself distracted with all these things that mean nothing in the long run - which results in little motivation for me to complete you.
Today,I thought about falling off Waterloo bridge in order to not have to write more. Or pretend to write more.
I've lost my direction and reason for doing this degree, apparently. It's fairly disheartening since I'm so close to the end.
Okay, enough distraction. Back to work...
"Demeter and Kore...."