Feb. 3rd, 2009

theladyrose: (Default)
This thesis proposal is turning into my baby.

A strange, weighty, intellectual baby, but a baby nevertheless.

If you attempt to engage me in conversation, unless you ask me something specific I will automatically start talking about my thesis proposal. Its development is not so slowly driving me neurotic. I'm always checking up on the document whenever I turn on my computer, I'm obsessed that I'm not feeding it the proper sources (really, you need more Carstensen's background studies on socioemotional selectivity theory if it's going to grow properly) and do research in the free moments I can find. I subsist on coffee to get me through the day; I can't give blood; I'm twitchy and jumpy and have random cravings for vegetarian noodles and milkshakes with sketchy Asian names and vegan hot dogs.

Heck, I'm nervous about my regular meetings with the doctor, aka my thesis advisor, who has a PhD and thus can be legitimately be addressed by the title "doctor."

I've written 80% of what I need to submit in mid-April, and 8 pages of sources. I still don't feel like I'm doing enough or have a sense of what my hypotheses are. I don't know if I'll ever be a proper "parent" to this thing when I'm so clueless.

If I weren't asexual and had progressed beyond the hand-holding stage with a member of the opposite gender, I'd swear I was pregnant.

(Somewhere, on the Internet, there are many people laughing their arses off.)

I don't know what it's like to be a mother, but I'm starting to get a tiny sense of how offspring can drive you crazy.

I don't even want to imagine what the teething troubles are going to be like when I actually have to start using SPSS on all of the data and try to explain why the participants in the neutral mood condition were significantly more depressed than those in the sad mood condition.

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theladyrose: (Default)
theladyrose

June 2010

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