"YOU SHOULD ENJOY WRITING YOUR DISSERTATION." COMPLETE LIE.
Right so I've finally reached the near end of my dissertation. (I don't really have a choice, I'm going to Sweden soon so it has to be handed in either way." One of my professors made it sound so easy. "Just read your articles, sit down and write. You should enjoy writing your dissertation, you've reached a stage in your education where your creativity and academic ability is so much higher than before so it'll be completely different from those you did at undergraduate level."
IT. IS. NOT. DIFFERENT.
I seriously think I'm going to die from my head exploding while doing the last things (which, by the way, I've been doing for the past six days. "Just the few, last things.")
Yesterday's ultimate moment was when I got so fed up I started kicking papers around in my room (not the best idea when you're looking for one and can't find it, it won't get easier afterwards...) and ran out to the living room crying and sobbing with an open mouth with saliva dropping down on the floor. You know the proper desperate "ugly- crying." I felt so sexy. (You know how in films they make people look pretty when they cry. Is anyone a pretty when (s)he cries in real life?) After having used about half a toilet roll to wipe up the saliva and excessive tears I went to get a pizza (yes Mummy Eva, I did. What are you gonna doooo about iiiit?) only to come home and realise that I had toilet tissue sporadically stuck to my face. Felt even sexier.
In other words, the dissertation is sort of eating my soul. Kind of like the dementors in Harry Potter suck the soul out of you.
I bought one of these oven pizzas. They can be pretty good if you have an oven that works. I don't. So it takes about 50 minutes for it to get burnt at the top and then soggy in the middle. But I've sort of reached that stage where I don't really care as long as it's cheese.
So. What were you doing on your Saturday night?
IT. IS. NOT. DIFFERENT.
I seriously think I'm going to die from my head exploding while doing the last things (which, by the way, I've been doing for the past six days. "Just the few, last things.")
Yesterday's ultimate moment was when I got so fed up I started kicking papers around in my room (not the best idea when you're looking for one and can't find it, it won't get easier afterwards...) and ran out to the living room crying and sobbing with an open mouth with saliva dropping down on the floor. You know the proper desperate "ugly- crying." I felt so sexy. (You know how in films they make people look pretty when they cry. Is anyone a pretty when (s)he cries in real life?) After having used about half a toilet roll to wipe up the saliva and excessive tears I went to get a pizza (yes Mummy Eva, I did. What are you gonna doooo about iiiit?) only to come home and realise that I had toilet tissue sporadically stuck to my face. Felt even sexier.
In other words, the dissertation is sort of eating my soul. Kind of like the dementors in Harry Potter suck the soul out of you.
I bought one of these oven pizzas. They can be pretty good if you have an oven that works. I don't. So it takes about 50 minutes for it to get burnt at the top and then soggy in the middle. But I've sort of reached that stage where I don't really care as long as it's cheese.
So. What were you doing on your Saturday night?
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