Thesis woes

This is a doubly rare post — a personal post, and an emo one for that.  The thesis is sitting between 930 to 1030 pages in the past month and I dread looking at it.  It’s never going to be as good as it should be, and I feel sick about it.  (And I feel even sicker about the synthesis appendix.)  As a self-proclaimed stoic I ought to feel indifferent, and often I try to be indifferent, and I have certainly been successful in being cheery with people.  I’m even cheery writing on a blog that no one reads.

The thesis feels so pointless.  No one is going to read it. Seven fucking years of my prime wasted on a tome that is good for nothing.  Fuck the “new paradigm” in the title and self-aggrandizing sentiments.  You know it’s inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

The horrible thing is that there’s all these things I think are important that I’m not doing because “I have a thesis to write”.  Friends, family, love, projects… I could be doing so much more meaningful things other than looking the stupid thesis, polishing at a snail’s pace, anguished with guilt, useless dead weight on god’s good green earth.  This…

“Go firmly to the window,
and listen, shaken with emotions, but not
with the complaints, the implorations of a coward.”

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