Shel Silverstein's Thesis Writing Advice

This was one of my favorite poems as a child. Clearly, I liked it because I was psychic and knew that one day I would need encouragement while writing a master's thesis. I hope this poem helps you too...

Melinda Mae

Have you heard of tiny Melinda Mae,
Who ate a monstrous whale?
She thought she could,
She said she would,
So she started in right at the tail.

And everyone said,"You're much
too small,"But that didn't bother Melinda at all,
She took little bites and she chewed very slow,
Just like a little girl should...

...and eighty-nine years later she ate
that whale
Because she said she would!!!

From "Where the Sidewalk Ends"

Perhaps I have macaroni & cheese taste in poetry, but Shel Silverstein is one of my favorite poets, and I was very sad when he died. Also, he wrote for Playboy, so he can't be that bad.

PS. I really hope it doesn't take 89 years to finish my thesis.
PS2. But if it does, I will still finish.

Better

I'm writing this post from my parents' kitchen table. The sun is physically and metaphorically shining, and I can look out the window on the beautiful city skyline below. I got a good pep talk from the fam, and I am revived to go and reconquer the thesis.

To my dear friends who live in this city: I'm sorry that I was not able to hang out. But the next time I come back, I'll be in a mood to celebrate.

Escape-ism

At the end of the horrible day (as described in the previous blog), I called my parents. They took my depression more seriously than I did ("No, no, I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound. I'm getting better"*) and booked me a ticket home for that very night (using frequent flier miles). I threw the contents of my lit review and a couple T-shirts in my suitcase and raced to the airport. It was an exhilarating drive, and I had a calm, end-of-the-world feeling.

As the plane took off, I watched the city that has become my jail shrink into black night. I ignored the under-knowledge that it was a false escape and concentrated on the airplane magazine. Finding that inane, I turned to one of the library books I'm rereading in order to complete my thesis corrections. Even though I was taking my problems with me as literal carry-on baggage, it felt good to be going home. My real home, not my shared rental house in a college town.

Note: I'm on a roll with another example of Banksy's genius.
*This doesn't mean I'm suicidal. But it is a butchered movie quote. Can you tell which one?

STUDY ANTHEM O' THE DAY: "Miss Misery"

When I revert to Elliott Smith, it's a sign that things can only go up from here, right?

PS. I LOVE Elliott Smith.


Elliott Smith "Miss Misery" (Directed by Ross Harris)

lost things or lost cause

Thanks to a kind fellow blogger, I discovered that Antony is the Saint of Lost Things. Unfortunately, when I finally reached his offices, his secretary referred me to St. Jude. As I walked down the block to Jude's office (all the saints' offices are lined up, kinda like embassy row), I assumed that St. Jude must be in charge of "success in education" or "extraordinary intellect and achievement" or at least "graduation gown fittings." But before I arrived, I saw the sign:

WELCOME to the offices of

St. Jude: The Patron Saint of Lost Causes
& Desperate SituationsPlease take a number.

I just walked away, dejected. No reason to bother a leader of a religion I don't even belong to. Back to studying I guess. ...

But wait ... a SIGN! In the middle of writing this very blog, my roommate's girlfriend found and delivered two of my long lost backpacks*! Maybe somebody is telling me to keep the faith.

*If you really must know, a year ago I lent the backpacks to her friends for a camping trip and the friends subsequently disappeared...