The Lost Boy
[Twas originally posted last Thursday night in my Facebook notes. Perhaps, the most traumatizing event in my campus life.] So how bitter can I be with thesis? During the holidays, I spent one-fourths of it eating, sleeping and drinking. And the rest on plain worrying about thesis. I seemed to have alloted a lot of time developing teen wrinkles. I couldn’t help it, our deadline for the first draft attempted to start the year with its own… and with fireworks.
And so I came back to reality, January fifth as the judgment day was SCARY by itself. I tried collaborating with my J200 classmates to ask our adviser for a deadline extension. We altogether agreed.
I texted Ma’am.
She replied, Okay Thursday 1PM.
Thursday 1AM came. I was still transcribing when migraine and frustrated nausea hit me; I already hit some coffee and Nissin cup noodles but nothing worked. My system was in a low. I then helped myself and had a nap for one hour. One hour, I promised.
2:30 I dozed off. I woke up at five.
And so, I had the best energy I ever had since I was in grade three and my classmate was having KitKat for raffle (we jumped so high I slipped and broke my chin on the floor).
I typed and typed and for the most part, enjoyed it. I tried to ignore Facebook and just posted crappy status messages. I was done by 12:30. And 1PM was the deadline!
I rushed to the bathroom, and sprinkled myself some water. I felt like a slave.
I then came back to my computer and saved the damn file in my USB. I was supposed to print it in SC. Rush! Rush! Saved? I guess, turn Tope off NOW! (Tope is my laptop’s name).
I snaked out of the village and managed to hail a cab in three minutes of waiting. I was in Shopping Center at 1245 and got a PC unit to check if my files were there. I opened the file.
Checking… checking… Hey, why is my methodology still in future tense? And where the hell is my Results and Discussions chapter?? OF COURSE! I FORGOT TO REPLACE THE FILE. THIS WAS STILL MY THESIS PROPOSAL, and my real file was at Tope’s!
I tried to reach my adviser through phone but the opearator said it was incommunicado or something. I also tried calling Nicai to ask her if Ma’am’s already in CMC. Both was incommunicado.
I zoomed to the forlorn college, looking about to implode and losing my ounces of temper. Who was to blame? Myself of course.
I asked the department secretary where Ma’am was. She said she was either at lunch or at class. I immediately thought she was in Iana and headed there.
Of course, she was found. I deliberately asked sorry. And she was puzzled. I told her my story.
How stupid, she must be then thinking.
But relentlessly, she was feeling okay and told me graciously that I can submit later. Whatever later meant. I’ll go home again and return here with a printed draft, I proposed. Four o’clock, she said with a beam.
I came back in the afternoon and submitted my crappy, good-for-nothing printer-fresh draft. So long…
AM I LUCKY?
AM I A JINX?
AM I A MORON?
This is like having a threesome with friends, not strangers.
And as much regret as I am feeling right now, I will never turn to cramming again. I will change, promise. I will change. No more distractions, please.