On My Own

Last class is tomorrow night. I am feeling both exhilarated and terrified. I like structure. I like tight deadlines. But as of Wednesday morning, I am on my own with this whole thesis thing and it makes me want to crawl into the fetal position and suck my thumb until September. The two months between tomorrow and September, when my first 80 pages are due, seems like an impassable chasm, an endless stretch of rocky time as far as the eye can see. Without Sheila to hold my hand, weekly deadlines to beat me into action, and fellow students to try and impress, how will I find motivation?

True, I do have Rand and Voix, and that bitter little voice inside my head that keeps whispering about all the money I’ve already spent. But after all this time in school, I still feel decidedly uneducated. Wasn’t I supposed to know it all by now? Isn’t that why I signed on the dotted line- to perfect my craft, work out the kinks? I swear I know nothing.

Barrie Borich was right. My grammar is crap, my sentences waaaaaaaay too long, and I wouldn’t know a dangling modifier from a squinting modifier if both bit me right on the ass.

Have I complained enough? Ok, more coffee please. Gotta finish my final portfolio for class, come up with a lovely snack to share, and crack open Burroway.