My ongoing (and steadily increasing) thesis anxiety has had a number of clear effects:
- Muscle tension, tension headaches and a sore right hip.
- Irrational and yet themed snack-craving: layered wafer biscuits. Potato crisps. Indian sweets (thankyou, Brunswick Street @ 11.45pm).
- Strange dreams about house-hunting.
- Ob-con Buffy and Angel viewing. I think I like the structure. I know it’ll go on and on and on for ages, and I know what’s going to happen. No surprises. No completion or submission… hm. Maybe I should be watching The Simpsons or Neighbours instead?
- A strange new interest in soccer (anything but editing I guess).
- Napping. Excessive napping. 4 hours last weekend, 2 today. Between 11 and 1 today I was face-down in the matress, breathing through two nostrils worth of seasonal rhinitis. The Squeeze chose to assume The Position (prone, that is) on the couch between 4 and 6 this evening. If we could synchronise our naps our relationship would reach new heights. Or depths.
- Cleaning. Yes, our house is clean. And there are no baskets of laundry waiting my attention in the loungeroom. The toilet is safe.
If you’re interested, I’ve actually got very little left to do on the thesis. So I’ll be done within the allocated time (4 years at my uni, but 3.5 years worth of funding from The Man. I’ll be done in 3.5). I know this makes me a freak. But it’s my fourth thesis (hons, MA, aborted PhD) so I should be pretty good at it by now. The Supes reckons I could be done in a fortnight. This pronouncement obviously prompted today’s Nap.
I have to write an introduction, rewrite Chapter One (formerly “Chapter One: Introduction” now “Chapter One: the Ill-defined But Probably a ‘literature review’ But Under Another Name”, rewrite the introductions to each chapter and redo my conclusion. Actually all very possible in two weeks for Thesis Demon. But I’m not really sure how I feel about this. I finally understand how I’m supposed to redo the introductions, so that will go quickly. But conclusion? I actually feel like I have no idea how it’s supposed to look. So I’ll try and we’ll see.
While I spent a delightful hour perusing the CAE (Centre for Adult Education) booklet today, planning language courses, pattern making courses, etc (yes, I am a big fat learning sponge), giddy with the thought of newly-won academic liberty, I’m also thinking about travelling. Goddess knows there’s very little actual work out there, beyond sessional teaching and exploitative short-term contracts. Hell, I might as well take up DJing full-time if I want exploitation. With a side order of industrial deafness.
I am suffering from separation anxiety already. Which is probably why I’m wondering what it would be like to have a baby. If there’s one thing three theses (and thirteen years at uni) has taught me, it’s how to handle long-term creative projects.
Ah, ha, ha! A little squeezy dogpossum running around? I like the sound of that. Of course you will get a job, you might have to endure a year or two of exploitation… How do you feel about your offspring being British citizens? I hear there a jobs aplenty o/s. Could be a rumour.
…yeah, that’s the rumour I’d heard as well. But I think it might all be wistful speculation… but I’ll investigate.
Frankly, the p’s didn’t bring us all the way here from the UK for me to abandon the Good Life for heinous weather, queue-obsessed neighbours and deciduous trees.
The thought of living in England horrifies me. But I could handle Wales or Scotland or Ireland.
I’d really like to go to Canada. Or perhaps somewhere else in Europe…