Bank Holiday Monday

I hate my dissertation. It is currently the written equivalent of gurning. The whole thing makes me want to stick pins in my eyes. It is hot and sunny out. I am not out. I am in here. I am writing. I have just come to the conclusion that the conclusion of my dissertation should have been obvious to the merest sliver of brainless brain even before I started. This is not good. I need an ice cream. And possibly a kick up the arse.

Dissertation is at least engendering thoughts, e.g. —


  • Why is the patriarchy so frightened of women who do comedy?
  • What do we/I make of conservative women who find their beliefs liberating?
  • How the hell do you write a good conclusion?
  • Where can I get a really good sandwich on the Cowley Road, damn damn damn why did I give up bread?
  • Is there a difference between an atheist sitting in a Christian chapel and standing/kneeling when everybody else does, and an atheist who puts on a headscarf to enter a mosque, or removes her shoes in a Buddhist temple?
  • What shall I write for my friends’ new zine?
  • Where will I be in six months’ time?
  • Will this dissertation just crumble like a house of cards when I start to cut it again?
  • 1 thought on “Bank Holiday Monday

    1. Duncan

      Fear driven by multiple drafts, cuts, re-structuring, etc. is a good fear, I think. And it’s often easy, after you’ve been immersed in a specific area of research for so long, to forget how what seems so unquestionably obvious to you is, while maybe not earth-shaking, still a discovery for the reader. It’s not as if you’re trying to re-invent the wheel (it’s late, ignore cliché), you’re illuminating and re-orienting a viewpoint of it (aren’t you? Or have I totally misconstrued the purpose of a thesis?). Regardless, it’s obvious that you’ve made excellent use of what’s been offered to you by the university to create a piece that’s been engendered by what you’re drawn to. Cheese and fluff, I know, but I feel that it must be somewhat true.




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