The dissertation is finished.
Honestly? It was horrible. And exactly the sort of thing May persistantly does when faced with a deadline. Flail, cry, write write write, delete delete delete, stare at screen in numb agony, like a rabbit waiting to be run over by the approaching head-lights, waste a good dozen hours calling self every name under the sun for not having finished dissertation in July, miss outing with friends because of stupid bloody bedamned migraine, type madly into the night several nights running, wake up too tired and stupid with sleep deprivation to carry on, carry on nevertheless, decide the hell with the word-count, just keep going and hand in whatever resultant three pages of misspelt scrawl result, writers’ block promptly takes hold of soul and wrings it like a damp flannel, more staring at screen, suddenly realise that there are quite a few words on the lap-top and staying up the whole of the last possible night will actually do it, drink coffee, am actually writing! To the finish! Wheee! Press print at 3:30 am, printer refuses to work, small and terrible interval in which pact is made with house-hold demons, press print, it prints! It prints! Realise have forgotten about mandatory 1.5 inch left-hand margin, own margin is less than one inch, muffled shrieking, reformat entire fucking thing, print, go lie down next to H and watch dawn through the window blinds.
Handing it in this morning was absolutely euphoric. Tired, pale, navy blue under the eyes, and delighted with self and entire darling adorable fluffy-clouded universe. Dancing in streets.
And then I came home and watched Hell Boy, to try and blot out the rapid crash into ‘it’s a heap of crap and I’ve handed it in now and there’s nothing I can do to de-crap it and my life sucks and I hate everything’ which inevitably also happens when May hands in course-work, sends job applications or, on bad days, hits ‘post’ on a blog entry.
This being a whole dissertation, produced under rather a strain, the crash is fairly almighty. Hell Boy helped (we’re going to see Hell Boy II later this week. I wasn’t being solely random). And I am also now tormented by the feeling I ought to be doing something really really important. This is also traditional. It will fade.
And now, back to reproducing. On which front I have no news. It is day eleven of the cycle, and jack shit is happening down below. Ah well. Satsuma is a slow starter at the best of times. She was this slow on the Successful Cycle of Slow Doom, in fact. And I was stressed out of my tiny mind that time too. Hah hah hah to ‘just relax’, I say.