I’m a big believer in “going with your gut”, and when you combine gut feelings with prophecies from Dove chocolate, you know you’re staring destiny in the face. I’m just now seeing the ironic link between “gut” and “chocolate”…I’m so clever that I don’t even have to try. Anyways, getting back on topic. Last week was Reading Week, and instead of reading I had panic attacks (but larger, more legitimate ones than assassinating travelers with luggage). I knew that my dissertation proposal was looming in the distance, but that was basically all I knew. It’s kind of like going to a movie: you know that one of your favorite actors has a role, but you’re just not sure when they’re going to make their grand entrance. Except I like actors, and the thought of my dissertation scares the living daylights out of me. So really it’s like knowing there’s a serial killer in your apartment building, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s in your apartment. Yes. That is a more adequate description. Last week however, I got an email telling me that the serial killer was only 5 apartments away, and that he likes to torture his victims before decapitating them. AKA-I had to have some sources lined up by Monday in addition to my topic.
The general desire I have for my dissertation is looking into mental health in the ghetto system. I’ve read a couple of really random mentions of mental asylums existing in several different ghettos, and since this is a pseudo-combination of two things I’m very much interested in, this is where I would like to steer my research. Whether or not this has been written on yet, if sources actually exist, and if I’m losing my mind are issues still up for discussion. This is as far as I have gotten with the general concept, in addition to bracing myself for the small book that will be my course essays, the hour long lecture that myself and another classmate are set to give this week for an MA tutorial session, and just life in general. Yes…I have to speak, in public, for an hour for my German film class. What am I going to say? Absolutely no idea, but I’m thinking of drinking beforehand. And afterwards.
So, I spent the majority of Reading Week freaking out, not sleeping, developing acne in places that I thought were immune (Upper arms? Eyebrows? Are these things even possible?!?) to find Monday morning two emails. Oh, did I mention I’ve developed an eye twitch? Last week was so stressful that I’m now an insomniac with acne that most dermatologists have nightmares about, and a nervous tick that shrinks loathe. Awesome. Whose idea was it to go to grad school?? It definitely wasn’t mine…I was definitely forced into this by someone else. I just spent 5 minutes trying to video this eye twitch. I should have been finishing two book reviews for seminar, but this was my way of rebelling. I think my rule-breaking is getting lamer…it started with smuggling in Diet Coke, and has peaked with staring at eye-twitches. I’ll never be part of a gang, will I? Why am I just now realizing this? I guess sometimes you don’t want something until it’s gone, and now my dream of being in a gang can be counted among those things. Now I’m going to waste a little more time thinking of the name I would have had in this gang…I don’t know, my actual name is kind of badass. Maybe just “Gun-slingin’ Kobi” is enough. I could be the token John Wayne character; you know, that wildcard that has the other gang confused/always on their toes. That totally would have been me. But now the world would be deprived, because the eye I use to line up my shot is twitchin’ and pitchin’ all over the place. See, UCL?? You’re making the world suffer! OR-they’ve saved me from painful jailtime and hard life lessons. I see now!! Oh you silly beast you…you’ve just taught me a lesson without explicitly telling me what your aim was. You’re good, UCL.
What were we talking about? Oh right, emails and guts. Email numero uno-my professor is extending the deadline for proposals a week and email number two-my MA tutorial lecture that I’m supposed to lead has been pushed to the 6th of March. So all of the freaking out that I experienced could have been alleviated if those two emails were sent even 48 hours earlier. Sigh. My gut feeling with this whole thing dissertation is-even though I’m not coming across primary sources at the moment, I should stick with this concept; it’s the only thing that I’ve been interested in enough to spend 15+ hours researching so far, so I’m going to take that as a positive instead of freaking out that I just spent 15+ hours in a matter of days researching and not finding a damn thing. (except I’m TOTALLY freaking out. I’m even holding my inhaler in my hand right now as I type. Ok, it’s sitting on my desk because I need two hands to type, but still…). And while I was in the middle of these 15+ hours, I looked down at the massive pile of wrappers that I was accumulating and saw “Do what’s right” looking up at me from the middle of the small mountain on my desk. I really don’t believe in the “fate of the fortune”, but sometimes it’s just nice to have an inanimate object with the vaguest sentiments possible reaffirm a giant life choice. You know? So there you have it: my chocolate-loving gut has told me to do the right thing. And since the only “thing” that I can think of “doing” is the concept above, that’s what Imma stick with. Until someone tells me that’s a horrible idea, and then I’m going to admit myself into a mental institution. Happy Monday everyone 🙂