My mother accused me of being "histrionic" the last few days. Obviously that's not true at all. If you know me, you know I'm the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. I don't freak out over anything. Or maybe I do, but I think this situation warranted a bit of emotion. Besides, if I'd gone into it thinking I was fine, I probably wouldn't have passed, right?
I will say though, that the three hours I spent plastering post-it notes all over my dissertation, books, and ntotes to tag every picture and line and quote and sentence that I wanted to highlight might have been a bit much. (Not to mention hysterical when professor Cervigni handed me his corrections and there were post-its sticking out from every angle. I thought I just sort of developed that habit, but it turns out I inherited it from him! I also realized that many of my books are held closed with rubber bands because I've either broken the binding or there are too many post-its to close the book. That comes from him too! I'm not sure how he would feel about that but I think he would think it was funny.)
I didn't even open the Macchiaioli picture book or the primary text at all. That was a little disappointing but more relieving than anything I think. I sort of felt bad after, since I had to sweet talk the art librarian into letting me check out a non-circulating/library use only book and then never even used it, but oh well.
So now I can take my first deep breath in about three years and can finally sit and do nothing without feeling guilty or lazy or that annoying little voice in the back of my head saying "Finish your dissertation, finish your dissertation, finish your dissertation!" And exhale.
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