As I wade through my eight-hour experiment today, I looked at my thesis plan during my breaks and had a little fantasy.
I am in my graduation robe, with that puff pastry hat, grinning from ear to ear as I receive that piece of paper that defines the long-awaited end of my academic life, from a wrinkly old man.
I snapped back to reality after the little mental detour, and resolved to be a Dr one day, by hook or by crook. Then I looked at my thesis plan again, all robust and energetic, only to feel deflated again.
How do I get there?
Now you know why I love PhD Comics. They tell my story.