The Moral of the story
The most hectic day of the past decade is easily the day before handing in my thesis for my bachelor degree. Closely followed by our departure for our wedding in NYC when I forgot my passport and had to take a cab back home, nearly missing our flight. Drama drama.
Speaking of drama, I can honestly say drama used to be right up there as my favourite hobby. Not consciously. In practice though it showed to take up quite a bit of my time and my money. Hubby being stoically calm has become a great influence in my life and acting like some kind of anchor to my soul.
So, Sunday, some time in 2006. Monday I had to hand in my thesis. One week before I had sent in a draft to my tutor. He had sent it back, commenting that he hadn’t made it past the first eight pages. Apparently it had been that bad. Frantically, I wrote another piece worth thirty pages. Mind, I had taken about five months to finish the first version, now I had six days.
I am now in the week before my most stressful day, it is Thursday. I send off my thesis, only to receive yet another email by my tutor rejecting this version as well. I am welcomed to write something like this for my postgrad degree, but not in an undergrad paper. Dear, things are heating up.
Two days later, Saturday, I am about to send in the third version. Would you believe it, the computer crashed. The entire document going down into the digital abyss. I am now two days away from handing in a thesis that ideally is written in four to five months. And, I am a little run down as I have handed in two other thesis which have not been accepted, loosing the third version. A little stressed.
Sunday comes around, I decide to go to church. If you build God’s house, He will build yours, the saying goes. Returning from church, I now have roughly 24 hours to finish a vital part of my degree, without which I will not be able to get a degree at all. And, I needed those 24 hours, all of them.
I type in a trance like state, not really knowing what I am doing. 30 pages, no outline done before. I take quotes form pages of books that have randomly fallen of the shelf, and have absolutely no idea what I am doing. I keep typing, however, and never stop to even rest for thirty minutes. Toilet break? Yes. Anything else? No!
Keeping in mind at that time I had only just stopped taking anti depressants, I had not been touching alcohol, my fave go-to in times of stress, for about a year, cigarettes had dwindled to a meagre one-every-thirty-days ration, and weed had not touched my lips in over a year. I was drug free, yet under immense pressure.
I write and write and write, auto pilot long switched on, until around ten in the morning. I get up, and I feel the Spirit tell me to throw all my relevant books away. Which is mad, as I imagine having to maybe retake the whole course in case this miracle thesis is not accepted.
I can see the bin on Battersea Bridge in which I discarded off the books on the Genealogy of Morals. I walk to Uni, thinking I have until 2pm, yet, by chance, I meet my friend who informs me that I have to hand it in by 12 noon. He also tells me where I have to take it to, something I also did not know. Without meeting him I would have had no chance of even handing anything at all.
By then I am in a very strange state. Yes, that Sunday I was typing away frantically, every second counted. And, would you like to know the grade I got? A 2,1, which is like a B+, the second best grade you can get. What a day! If you like to read the thesis, I can try and find it somewhere and get it to you. Have a happy stress free read.