Last night, I was so angry at my thesis that I wanted to snap my DVDs from my pretty excellent collection. I didn't, but, somewhat disturbingly, it crossed my mind as a helpful option. They were the first things I spotted that were (a) fairly precious to me and (b) capable of being hurled about the room. The urge reminded me of a friend who told me that, as a child, he smashed his trophies in a tantrum and then realised for the first time that he was the one who would have to glue them back together. It's brutal. My (informal) mentor said that empirical data outfox us all from time to time. Mine are reclining in a spa bath on a three-storey appartment overlooking the ocean, sucking fat cigars, barely looking down at me on the street below.
I feel far less aggravated this morning, and less alone in it after receiving an email from a good friend and fellow PhD sucker that included this by chance:
I feel quite strong these days but I'm just a bit fed up, tired and yet still terrified of not getting it finished in time. An interesting mixture of exhaustion and panic-stricken hysteria amidst a more general attitude of stoic pragmatism. It's an interesting emotional storm!
How well-expressed! But, like her, I feel bad about whingey rants so I will stop here. I am off to start a brawl with the fox.
(I intentionally included a picture of paper fox to remind myself who's boss.)