Paper.
I got a message yesterday as I was winding up the laundry and gathering it from the dryer at the mat up the way on Balboa.
It was a message from one of my professors.
I have already begun reading for the next semester, three of my text books have landed in my mail box, and I wasn’t really thinking anything about the message other than maybe he’d gotten my grade in early.
That was not the message.
No.
Fuck my life.
The message basically said it looks like the final paper you sent in was a draft and not the final copy and it is full of typos and ends abruptly and doesn’t answer the questions that I wanted answered and makes me wonder if you understood the scope of the material in the course.
Holy shit, what?!
I was flummoxed.
First, that I had sent in a draft?
I never do that.
I am scrupulous about doing a spell check and when he said “typos” I was really curious about what it could be.
I was also pressed for time as I was supposed to go meet up before doing the deal in the Castro and I had only so much time, not enough, surely to look up the paper and see what I had sent in and remedy it.
I scrambled my laundry home to my house, I had fifteen arguments in my head with my professor, I got upset with myself, I started thinking about the paper I had written and internally I knew, the prof was right on at least one point, I hadn’t really written a paper that was outlined in the directions.
I had deviated and written something that I wanted to.
My professor had also noted that though it was “fascinating” it didn’t address a lot of the topics that he wanted covered.
And that bit about me not understanding the scope of the material?
Well fuck off.
Did you not read all the freaking discussion posts I put up?
I mean.
Fuck.
I did substantial, 1,000 word plus discussion posts, on a weekly basis, two, three, four times a week.
I understood the scope of the fucking material.
I was mad.
I was also mad at myself.
How could I have sent in a draft?
What was I thinking?
I also had a vague recollection of actually being rather proud of the paper I had sent in, though no, it was not written in the way he wanted, it was well written and I felt that in my own way I had actually answered all the parameters of the paper.
I sent him a message and apologized for the paper, told him I had a standing appointment to meet up with my person and I had to do the deal after and then I’d get right home and get on figuring out what had happened.
I teared up a bit, I imagined I was going to have to do a load of work, my brain went right to the worst thing ever.
I was failing the class and what the fuck was I doing even bothering to try to get a PhD?
I was in over my head.
I was tired.
I didn’t want to re-write the paper, was I going to have to re-write it?
But I loved my paper, I really had liked it and I had spent more than one day on it.
Quite often I will write a paper in one shot and then edit it and send it out.
I did this one in two days, I felt like I should have been getting a pat on the back and a “how clever are you?” comment about my paper, not some insinuation that I didn’t understand the course work.
I was incensed and upset.
I cried big raccoon eyed tears when I made it to the Castro and basically wet down the table at Firewood Cafe with my weeping.
I couldn’t believe I had actually worn not just eyeliner, but also mascara and not the waterproof kind.
I looked a little beat up when I left.
I got down to it though with my person and came to the conclusion that.
1. The professor was right, I hadn’t written the paper the way he had assigned it.
2. I was being arrogant.
3. I didn’t have to get an “A” in the course.
4. All I had to do was pass the course.
5. I was fucking tired and overwhelmed and I didn’t have a whole lot in me.
So after a lot of getting humble and admitting that I may have turned in not the best paper I could, whilst also admitting that I was beating myself up a little too hard, I left the Castro, came home and looked up the paper.
OHMYFUCKINGGOD.
It was like the draft of the draft.
It was awful.
I don’t have a clue how that got past me.
All I could think was that I had updated my computer at one point and maybe that was it.
But it was true, the version I had sent to my professor was a hot mess, typos, misspellings, the last page was missing, the paper ended in a super abrupt way and I had also pasted the directions in the paper so that I could refer to it when I wanted to.
But you don’t send that in to the professor!
Ugh.
I spent some time trying to find the final draft and there wasn’t one saved on my computer.
So.
I made the decision to not re-write the whole thing, I still was holding onto the idea that I wasn’t that in the wrong with the content of the paper and he had said it was fascinating.
I cleaned it up, re-arranged a few pieces, wrote out the last page that had been missing and sent my professor an e-mail apologizing for the draft that had ended up in his e-mail.
I also defended what I wrote, but admitted that yes, he was right and I hadn’t done the paper by the guidelines he’d given.
I said if there was anything else I needed to do for the paper I would happily do it.
I sent it out and crashed out early, I was wiped out emotionally and mentally.
There was nothing in my e-mail when I woke up.
I spent much of the morning thinking that I might be spending my New Years Eve writing a ten page paper on a topic that I had basically shelved eleven days ago.
Then.
OH!
Sweet relief.
I got an e-mail this afternoon saying that he’d gotten the new copy, that he understood that it was a mistake getting the first one, that further, he understood why I had written the paper I had and that I didn’t have to do anything else, and happy new year.
HAPPYFUCKINGNEWYEAR!
Sweet Jesus.
What a freaking relief.
I don’t even care what the grade is that I get.
I am certain I will pass.
The paper was good enough.
And I can now say, with finality that this semester is over.
Which is good since I’m doing reading for the next one at this point.
Not tomorrow though.
Tomorrow is a holiday and I will treat it as such.
Grateful as all get out that I made it through this year.
It was one hell of a ride.
Seriously.
Auntiebubba 