Screwed (part deux).

Here’s a curious proposition. Having completed the second major draft of my thesis, and having passed that draft on to Paul for his comments, I find myself with nothing significant to do; and that somehow distresses me.

It’s almost as if having that thesis hanging over my head almost completely defined my academic existence, to the point that without it, I find myself being absurdly bored and directionless. Last night I had the first long night’s sleep in months, and this morning I woke up feeling that something was just simply… wrong. A curious lethargy and apathy mixed with a strange feeling of dread and overwhelming boredom.

In a way it’s a lull before the storm, I’ve still got two minor assignments to complete, plus an exam (if two 3000-word case reports and a 50% exam can be considered minor; which to me, they are). Plus there are more thesis drafts to complete, once Paul gets back to me.

But they feel like subsequent minor irritations; the case studies can be written in a week maximum each. Lord knows I don’t actually need to seriously study for the exam because once I’ve finished the case studies, I’ll have sufficient knowledge to tackle and excel in the exam.

I’ve found working with Sarah completely accelerates my academic schedule. I blast past her while she plods along, and I get things done quicker because I spend so much time trying to get her to speed up. Now I’m done and she’s half way there. Thankfully this is her last semester, so I won't have to feel bad about understanding things quicker and doing work faster and getting better grades come next year.

I will miss her an awful lot though. More than I dare to admit or let show. She's a good friend.

Or maybe I’m feeling somehow distressed because over the academic year, I haven’t yet felt any real stress, and am in a position to contemplate putting up my feet as everyone else begins to change into third gear.

At the same time there’s this underlying emotional drama which barring other entanglements, can now bubble to the fore. Plus the huge question of ‘what the hell do I do over summer now that I can’t go home?’ I want to write but I feel I’ve lost the ability to do so.

I want to go, but I want to stay. I want to stay, but I want to go.

There is no winning in this situation is there?

Can I just say, I hate holidays and spare time because I have nothing to do. Give me unhealthy and disgustingly absurd amounts of stress every day. Punctuate those with occasional days of irresponsibility and procrastination, and I’ll be happy. I can't relax and enjoy myself comfortably unless I'm procrastinating about something.