(no subject)

[bedlamsbard]

Okay, so, thesis: I went in and talked to my advisor and said, "You know, I don't have a chapter, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm not really happy with what I'm doing, I don't know if I have any options beyond dropping the thesis entirely, what should I do?" And he went, "Yeah, I kind of got that from your e-mail; you can't apply for an extension but I can, let's talk about what you want to do with the thesis." (To which my reply was, "I kind of want to hack out the classical stuff entirely.")

Anyway, he is e-mailing Honors so that I can get an extension until after Thanksgiving break (I'm not doing anything during Thanksgiving except catching up on sleep and baking something, I might as well write ten pages about visual culture in The Faerie Queene) and I have his copy of The Spenser Encyclopedia and a stack of readings on visual culture in the Renaissance. Which is a lot better than I felt this morning, when I crawled out of bed after six hours of sleep and thought, "I feel like a failure and a fraud and I have wasted my entire undergraduate career, my parents' trust, and my grandparents' money." And then went through the rest of the morning feeling like I was going to alternately throw up and pass out.

On the bright side, yesterday my Latin teacher told me that I was her best student.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I managed to not cry for three years. And then somehow found myself in my advisor's office SOBBING in senior year.

She plucked a box of tissues from a drawer full of them (I kid you not, half the drawer was nothing but tissue boxes), dropped it in front of me, and said, "Senioritis kicked in, huh?"

[lady_songsmith]

Er, that was me, DW hates me, carry on.

[bedlamsbard]

TISSUES. EVERY STAFF MEMBER SHOULD HAVE THEM. I may start judging professors on whether or not they keep tissues in their offices.