It's the middle of the night. I'm in my office, jacked up on caffeine and chewing gum and barbeque soy crips. I'm listening to Tegan and Sara's The Con. It's like last fall all over again. Remember that time, readers? Back when I used to work on my thesis? Little by little, day by day? Just like my dear adviser advised me to? Yes, those were the days. These days, on the other hand, I have to write sixty pages of thesis in one week. Sixty Pages! ONE WEEK! Yes, it's totally insufferable, and yes, it's totally my own *freaking* fault.
My only consolation? The MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Sixth Edition. Is it a sign that you have obsessive compulsive disorder if reading and repeating the rules of ellipses and citing anthologies keep you from scratching your eyeballs out and then banging your head over and over again on your keyboard?
I NEED (and by NEED I mean have been trained by consumerist society to WANT): New Chucks. More coffee. A face implant that puts Chapstick on my lips 24-7. An iPhone. A footrest that is red. A tiny person to live on my desk and dust things. Free iTunes for Life. My left elbow to stop itching. A doppleganger who will write my thesis, defend it and then conveniently cease to exist.
-buelsy (tougher than the rest?)
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