Dunzo and Other Musings

Well the first draft of my thesis is done. I finished it on March 13, 2006 at 7:34 in the p.m. I am going to look over it again tomorrow to try to add a bit more to the conclusion but for the most part I am done (until my advisor obtains a copy and tells me its shit, rips it apart, and makes a comment or three on every single line of the fucking text so that the comments become so heavy I cannot even bear to look at the actual text any longer or even revise the damn thing).

Why do I feel such a sense of "wow I am sooooooo full of shit" right now? I have written a mini-book but the whole process was so disheartening that I feel like I have completely sold my soul just to get a master's degree. It is strange to think you have such a great idea and be really excited about it and have everyone tell you it is "really exciting and ground breaking" while at the same time doing every single thing in their power to make sure you do not ever get the chance to pursue the ideas you began with.

You start somewhere and begin to be pushed so hard in other ways that you finally get to the point where you just quit and begin to hint to the committee that you can't write and maybe they should do it for you since you are obviously a retard because every single draft is wrong. I should feel proud of having completed such a large project, but I feel totally 100% defeated right now. In The Winter of Discontent by John Steinbeck the protagonist talks about a flame inside of a person that either receives the oxygen of life or it goes out, and he sits next to the ocean contemplating suicide because his flame has gone out. The only thing that keeps his flame from being extinguished is the thought that his suicide my extinguish the flame inside his daughter and he decides to make sure that her life is never like his. That is how I feel right now that this whole masters program has extinguished my flame.

The sad part is I really used to love to read and write. I mean I got into this racket to share that love of reading and writing about literature with other people and to try to pass that love onto someone else who may not have gotten the opportunity otherwise. The fact is I no longer have that love of literature. I guess that is why Professors are such a drag because killing dreams is part of the process. It hurts to think I have always felt like a fighter as a guy that no matter the odds I can always answer the bell and come out swinging but the fact is that I feel like my flame has gone out and I really do not have any fight left in me for either finishing school or life. It has permeated my whole existence to the point that I simply want to quit all together. Nothing is worth this. Nothing. I think I am going to use the job with KA to figure out my next move and I am not sure what I want to do with my life but I can tell you this: I don't ever want to feel like this again. Right now I feel dunzo in both senses of the word.