I just emailed him to find out and explained the above to him. I'm really really really hopeful he changes his mind and 10 is enough. I wish I could just back out and find someone else but it's too late for that.
In my department there are rules about how many pages (and how many revisions) are required for a semester of independent study. If the rule is, say, 20 pages, and the appropriate target project would be 10 pages, we just have the student do the other pages as a commentary on some related issue or a thought paper that is not quite at the core of their 10 page product. Perhaps something like that would work.
Good idea, Rick. I wonder what the target is for a 6 week summer quarter course. I figured 10 pages and the research required is pretty good, but who knows?
if the plumber says he'll be here between 3 and 3:30 what time will he really come?
He just called. Allegedly he's on his way.
I think my husband knows me too well.
I've had a rough week with the writing, and I was angling for sympathy hairpats and maybe a good round of "I believe in yous" in a chat with him.
No hairpats were forthcoming. He said, "You can admit defeat. You can say, 'You know, I'm just not good enough, and I'd rather not fight that.'"
My reply: You know, I really don't think I can.
Him: Well, then. Why you acting it?
So now I'm all fightin' mad because nobody, not even my own doubt demons, is going to fucking tell me I can't write this damn story, damn it. It's too good of an idea to drop unfinished, no matter how hard it is to pull off, and I'm too passionate about my characters to abandon them. Also, I am TOUGH and I am BRILLIANT and I can DO this.
Which is exactly the reaction DH had in mind. Played me like a violin.
Sometimes I still want the hairpats, though.
plumber was a hoot. He fixed the clog no problem but since D had already taken apart the old pipes under the sink he said he didn't think he could fix the wee drip that resulted without getting new pipes. I said, "do you think that's something my roommates could do?" His reply, "Well are they retarded?"
Those damned steroid packs give me the munchies like I'm a big old pothead. But if they help, then bring it on.
Oh, HELL yeah. Stock up on the snackies. You’ll be happier. Trust me, says the girl who just finished a taper and went through (more than) several bags of chips and candy.
Yeah, I think Merrills are the more recent version.
I adore my Merrills. I had no idea they were the “new” thing.
So, my presentation went really quite fabulously. Although, I blame a certain Bitch for putting a nice little phrase in my mind that accidentally popped out during my presentation to 10 professors, my parents, my thesis buddy, her SO, and one of her friends. Yes, my friends, I actually said, “research orgasm.”
I think my mom died.
::kicks Birks under the bed::
Hey, they were a Christmas present!
There is nothing more frustrating than a doctor who won't listen/help when you're legitimately goddamn sick, you know?
My doctor is very good at listening. Unfortunately, she's also very hard to get in to see because she's the dean of something or other at the medical school at UW. So getting an appointment with her is like requesting an audience with the Pope. Generally, the PAs at her clinic are also very caring and knowledgable, but just not that time. I should have gone back when the problem persisted.
