I have a piece of paper pinned to the board in my office. It reads simply:
'Rule number 3: never, ever, ever do a Phd'.
It was given to me by the (soon to be) Dr Brown. Dr Brown's on the verge of submission, so hurrahs go out to him. But it's been a long, hard, torturous road from all accounts.
I'm only at the Masters stage and I know how he feels. I have lived and breathed site interpretation for a particular location in the Adelaide Hills for at least the last two weeks. I have forsaken all others, eaten poorly, slept too little and spent hours upon hours of weekend time away from home and hearth to drive along the freeway and walk about in the rain.
And mid last week I put my research submission into them. Have I heard anything? Have I crap. Not even a 'thanks BHG, we'll have a look as soon as we can and get back to you in the next couple of weeks'. Frankly I think the whole thing's going to go under. And frankly, my dear, I couldnae give a tinkers.
So I'm at home, after another lack-luster weekend finishing off a course work assignment on why guiding at St Peter's Cathedral is absolutely pants.
Thank god I'm having dahl for dinner. Oh yeah, and leave for China on Thursday. Only glimmers in another wise dull and listless life. Well, not at all really my life's pretty good, I'm just bored with this assignment and frustrated about the thesis.
Oh yeah, because I know you're wondering:
Rule number 1: Just answer the question and you'll do fine
Rule number 2: Never, ever, ever do a PhD.
On reading the assignment I'm writing I'm not at all sure I've complied with rule number 1. It could be a long night.
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