So, six weeks after I defended my Master’s thesis, I finally submitted the revised version yesterday with the required abstracts, approvals, discs, fees, forms, photocopies and waivers.
In exchange, I got a sheet of paper to serve as a guarantee that I’d be among the hundreds of people marching at my university’s commencement exercises four weekends from now. My parents—who’ve predictably booked their tickets way in advance—can now breathe a sigh of relief.
I can now also breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve talked about this thesis a number of times in this blog, and the entire experience has really felt like a milestone that’s simply refused to end. Before the draft was the paperwork. After the draft were the revisions. After the revisions was the defense. Before the defense was the mock. After the defense were more revisions. After the revisions was more paperwork.
(The last bit alone had me scurrying across campus and across Katipunan for two days in the perenially noon-day heat. The heat, plus the snags coming from ill-time printer hang-ups and unexpected formatting errors, plus the growing pile of abandoned business from other bits of my life—including writing for this blog—resulted in a minor emotional meltdown of sorts. All I’ll say is: I’m glad my phone still works.)
The thing is, I’ve probably resisted (perhaps even resented) few other exercises in my life as much as this thesis. I completed my coursework in a remarkably short span of time despite the extra courses I had to take (since philosophy wasn’t my undergraduate degree) and I absolutely loved preparing for my comprehensive exams. Then the time came for me to write my thesis—and I stonewalled for a good two years until Sir Eddie Boy finally told me to just get the b—– thing over and done with.
Now, it’s finally, officially over—but my question is: am I really done with it? Because there was something about the entire exercise that provoked an internal (and still inexplicable) hostility that’s still quite palpable for me. And, as we often say in my (other) line of work: if you don’t learn what life’s trying to teach you, it’ll keep sending more lessons your way.