I think I dropped out of grad school.
I mean… I took a health break for a year after I started working full time and found out my body is eating my thyroid.
And I need to go back and finish.
I am literally a thesis defense away from my MS.
Pretty much what happened is that I put blood, sweat, tears into my thesis. I did a huge research project which involved permission from the IRB to do research on actual human people. I did a massive survey. Sleepless nights. Tears. Frustration. Hard work.
And because I live an hour and a half away from my school, having to drive back and forth for meetings was tenuous when I wasn’t full time, and now could put my head on the chopping block.
But I told my committee that I was done. And then they bitched at me for not following protocol and I’m here like… no one told me there is this red tape protocol bureaucratic bullshit.
I just want to defend my research and get my degree.
“Well, you need to propose your research.”
I fucking did that. Okay. I did that when I sent you an email with a detailed outline of what I was doing, my methodology, blah blah woof woof. Why do I seriously need to drive an hour and a half to have this meeting, where I’m missing work and NOT getting paid, for you to listen to me drone on. Seriously… this could be done by email. Skype if you really wanna see my face.
And then my chair ripped apart my thesis to the point where I may need to rewrite. Add some good, old fashioned anxiety in there and boom!
I might be a grad school drop out.
And for all my friends who have M.S. degrees, they ain’t even using them.
Note: this diatribe was created in part due to my dad asking “Carolanne, when are you going to finish your masters?” and stumbling upon my portfolio with all my awesome grad work.
For anyone interested in long, boring essays and case briefs about various criminological topics written by yours truly, click below:
And encouragement. I really need that right now.