Friday, March 18, 2011

I am drowning my stress in chocolate chips from the bag.

My thesis final draft is due in a week (we think.  There's some ambiguity, but we're pretty sure it's due next Friday) and hasn't come back from my second reader yet.  I have two papers and a quiz and a reader response due next week, which I need to get done NOW because WHO KNOWS HOW MUCH REVISION YE OLDE THESIS WILL NEED?  Potentially 'lots.'  Hopefully 'little.'  All fairy godmothers summoned for 'none.'

I'm hoping it has taken her this long to read because a.) she is busy, b.) she forgot to read it, c.) she forgot that she hasn't returned it to me, and not d.) she had to go buy a new carton of red pens for all the red-penning she is doing.

I will be less stressed out when it goes in for its final mark-up, because at that point there's nothing I can do for it (until the defense, at which point I will be stressing out all over again and frantically searching out my most sweat-proof shirts).

So here I am on a Friday afternoon chewing my nails and researching a paper on the rights of critical authority, i.e. can white people write critically and theoretically about works by people of color.  This is a subject I know ZERO THINGS about and about which I am frantically trying to educate myself, and I am sure to accidentally say some racist things because if my Canadian Lit class has taught me one thing, it's that I'm incapable of speaking with complete discretion, please stop shouting at me, girl in the back row, I am trying.

Time to go Read More Things in an attempt to not put my foot in it.

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