17.6.13

Reflections #2 - Dissertation


DISSERTATION... one word that struck abject fear in me I kid you not. For the best part of two years I dreaded reaching third year simply because of what I had seen the final years go through.

Now that I've finished uni and all- I can tell you... it's not that bad. 
The key, my young grasshoppers, is to choose a topic that interests you- otherwise writing up to 10,000 (depending on your degree) words on something you dislike or aren't bothered about will be umm hell. 

 It will slowly take over everything- it will always be in the back of your mind-regardless of what you're doing. But then, that's the same for all important life-impacting (such as job interviews, exams etc.) things. 

Okay it's a bit worse- but honestly it's doable. Even if it does sometimes feel like your brain/body will soon give up on you. 

For me, the closer it got to the deadline the more it consumed my...everything. And to top it all off, I had to hand in two other massive research projects in the same week. Needless to say, sleeping was a beautiful thing of the past. 

To be frank, yes it was unbelievably hard and sometimes I felt so much like giving up and just be done with it-it was a bloody emotional roller coaster ride I'll tell ya! 

But when it was all bound and handed in, I swear church bells rang and angels sang- (I kid, there were no church bells). All jokes aside, I was so bloody proud of it and it all somewhat seemed worthwhile- even if I did feel like I wanted to add more- nothing can beat actually seeing it. Finished. Glorious feeling that.

 (Side note; I had actually become emotionally attached to the thing-couldn't let it go for the lady to stamp and all- and after had this emptiness in my chest where apparently the knot of fear and worry had been- yes I do realise I'm a weird nutter)

So in conclusion, the last coupla months consisted off:

                                                
                                                                    This:



                                                                 A lot of this:
Sleepless nights, occasional bouts of crying, existing solely on junk food and explaining random ideas and thoughts about the developments of social class, accents, police procedures and what not- at length - to whoever would listen or muttering it to myself-sometimes on the bus (like I said- right nutter here) and obviously awesome people around me and my patient supervisor- all led to this:

                                                         'Guilty Accents' 
We'll ignore the hideous binding.
and a 2.1 Alhamdulilah (praise be to God) J

Until next time,

Adiós!