Woke up, read fic. Knock on the door. "One second!" Damned myself for never wearing clothing. Smack, trip, stumble, ow, into a shirt. Damn gravity and floppy shirts for not providing support. Don tighter spaghetti-strap, fumble into nearest PJ bottoms, hurry out. Goodbye to Juliette - lots of big group hugs in the corridor.
Plunked down in the den. Leftover slices of double decadence pizza - mmmmm. Mmmmm! Then a Krispy Kreme cream-filled donut while reading fanfic - more mmmm.
Doctor Who. Lots of wtfery and sadness over the scientist character being killed, as per usual. RIP random kind scientist lizardguy.
Watched my first Eurovision Song Contest, since I missed it last year. Sass and Tinboy played a drinking game and were getting quite drunk; I had a sip of Cactus Jack Apple Sourz when the voting ended and that was it. They kept drinking through the vote section until Tinboy was seeing double and gazing at us with one eye closed each time.
Strange tradition. In my mind Minerva & co. were dressed up like eccentric Muggles in some dyke bar watching (and tearing the mick out of) Eurovision. That got me through. Tinboy was ridiculously drunk by the time it was over and stumbled out of the room, then back to look for an elastic. I gave him my scrunchie before he could look too much; I imagine at that point he was having difficulty spotting his own nose, or at least the one.
Sass and I were worried when he was locked in the loo and not answering, but at last he did. That was an hour ago. When I went downstairs again he was still in the main loo. I brought up a mug of tea and a cup of water for him, brought in the extra mouthwash, cleared his floor, made his bed up and brought him my old blanket. Hopefully some of it will help.
So, for the day, fic: 1, dissertation: 0.
But I've just spent a bit reading through the 'Guide to Part 3 Research Project Work'. It's frustrating how little of it applies to me, but that's my own fault given the topic I picked - not purely experimental and certainly NOT a lab project. Will have to discuss the format of my literature review and the project at large with my supervisor. Nervous. I look like such an underachiever next to Claire, who has been working on it since even before exams ended as a form of procrastination.
Made a 'third year' folder in my uni work folder, and a 'dissertation' folder within. It freaked me out. Deleted my second-year work from my school to do list and replaced it with 'dissertation literature review'. Got more freaked out. Made a 'Goethe's contribution literature review' document with my heading and title - completely freaked out. Thus it all becomes real and denial stops strangling me; unfortunately I'm tossed into something worse.
Here's to avoiding uni panic. I did the unthinkable once this year: I made it through work and exams without a panic attack. I would like to get through my literature review without one. Tomorrow it's time to start going through the actual material and sorting out what I think I should bring up, some ideas for the direction my dissertation could follow.
Part of my brain keeps inquiring, "Why not English, Kiwi? Why didn't you go for English? You're comfortable with English." English, English, English. Yes, I love English. Yes, it's my comfort zone and has been since forever - but that's precisely the problem. I chose a path for uni that specifically was not my comfort zone. This is supposed to be a learning experience. I will let it be that, and thus deal with the discomfort that I consciously chose for myself.
Plus there's the fact that a great English/Literature teacher can inspire a sense of euphoria, yet a terrible one can equally break the spirit and send one straight into the pits of despair. At least I can be a little more apathetic with science and having a teacher I don't particularly enjoy doesn't ruin my relationship with my coping mechanism (writing).