finally sent my research paper off last night,
several pots of coffee and a tin of rescue remedy later,
and in my triumphal haze I am realizing that I was - as usual - obsessing a bit too much.
As a freshman and sophomre in undergrad, I was a music therapy student. My prof was on the certification reveiw board, and a founding editor of one of the major US journals in the feild. He expected all of us to write like we were going to be published. Today. One paper every day (plus rewrites) in APA. He was a facist dictator disguised as a professor and I still hear his voice as I'm trying to organize my thoughts into compatibility with the requirements of the 6th edition.
Having sent the paper, I can now look back and see that I was writing it as though the authors of the articles I was reveiwing were going to read and critique my work, rather than an over-worked professor who has probably not a clue about music education to begin with.
Oh well. I faced down my demons and overcame the urge to move away or shave my head or drink myself silly; and I got it done.
Now I can go be ridiculous...
several pots of coffee and a tin of rescue remedy later,
and in my triumphal haze I am realizing that I was - as usual - obsessing a bit too much.
As a freshman and sophomre in undergrad, I was a music therapy student. My prof was on the certification reveiw board, and a founding editor of one of the major US journals in the feild. He expected all of us to write like we were going to be published. Today. One paper every day (plus rewrites) in APA. He was a facist dictator disguised as a professor and I still hear his voice as I'm trying to organize my thoughts into compatibility with the requirements of the 6th edition.
Having sent the paper, I can now look back and see that I was writing it as though the authors of the articles I was reveiwing were going to read and critique my work, rather than an over-worked professor who has probably not a clue about music education to begin with.
Oh well. I faced down my demons and overcame the urge to move away or shave my head or drink myself silly; and I got it done.
Now I can go be ridiculous...
1 comment:
you would look good with a shaved head.
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