DOA - for reals

I'm pretty sure I killed the Zombie. Or maybe I'm becoming one myself?

I have no clue.

You know what? I should put up a new sign next to my thesis office.

Don't Dead. Open Inside.

DOA

In case you didn’t know, writing a thesis is freaking hard.

I’m up in my elbows of the guts of this paper. I made quite a mess of the analysis. Words are splattered everywhere. If this was a murder scene, then the analysis would be the guts sprawled all over the floor. It’s bloody. It’s messy. Something has clearly gone very wrong.

But I’m going to ignore it for now.

I have to tackle the discussion.

So I’m staring at the head of my victim, trying to figure out how to cut into the brain and get the pieces out I need.

I don’t want to make a mess again. But I think I’ll have too.

This thesis writing is brutal business.

And somehow my thesis ended up being a metaphorical murder victim?

Also, I’m not sure if this metaphorical murder victim is alive or not.

Oh well. It’ll probably end up being zombie. I can deal with that.