With my friend MTP, February sucks. At least this February does. My thesis is not coming. I am so over come with panic that when I sit down, I am shaking. I can't write. I feel like a deer frozen in headlights. And then I got this freakin' psychotic series of emails from my advisor. The first one basically tells me I suck, and that if I want her to help me I better never send such a sloppy draft again. This is followed five minutes later with "This is a good start." I spent a half hour sobbing hysterically, and still haven't shaken the feeling of just not being cut out for this academic life. Following the mini-break down, I read over what I wrote today and decided it was shit. Tomorrow will be spent trying to figure out what the hell I am trying to do. After that trip into despair, I spent three hours finishing up as much of the index as I am willing to do for the other prof. (I did it all but the appendix and notes). I wrote him an email and just said "I can't do any more. I am already way behind in my class and on my thesis. “
Plus I have a cold.
I fucking hate my life right now. I love H and the kids, and that part of my life is awesome (except that I've been a downright shitty mother (bought them guilt presents on Tuesday and brought them to Spiderwick last night). But the rest of my life...sucks. I hate working. I hate the academic life. I love reading...the writing I don't know but the reading is good. Sometimes I like teaching. But really...I just wish I was rich so I could say "Fuck you" to them all. Excuse any sloppy writing, typos, etc...as my advisor so kindly pointed out "I suck."