People of the world, I have finished my thesis. I think in many ways I am a changed person. It may seem grandiose and bombastic of me, and despite my proclivity for such tones, there are now 89 pages worth of commentary in the world that weren't there before. I wrote them, interspersed heavily with rephrasings and blockquotes. I could tell you how I've changed, but that might be too much. As it turns out, over-determination is just the noisy road to despair. I think perhaps that's not my preferred route, despite the fact that it will take me time to remember why and how to go about avoiding it.

I cannot remember being this tired, and certainly not for such a sustained period. I still have so much work to do. It's bizarre, really. I think I may get 4 days to pack at the end, but the day before I leave is the all-encompassing "proclamation," which it makes me laugh to think about. Oh, the pomposity. They will call my name, and then they will "proclaim" on what scale I have been lauded. A more ridiculous social gathering I cannot imagine, all of which is ameliorated by the fact that it is simultaneously a BBQ. It's like the twilight zone here. Or maybe I'm just looking out of the psychedelic lenses that being this tired and this overwhelmed by the all-important mystery of their expectations have given me. Un-freakin-believable. I better be unconsciously psychic, that's the only way I'll make it out of here without being mangled.

All the more so, let me say that I am looking forward to spending the weekend with my promotor (Dr. Paul Cruysberghs) and a dozen other graduate students for the purpose of examining The Sickness Unto Death. Apparently Dr. Cruysberghs does something like this every year. We're going to a cottage and we're going to read Kierkegaard, all weekend.

I gotta go be outside for a while ... even though it's raining.

Lates!

Cakes