"Africa is, indeed, coming into fashion." - Horace Walpole (1774)


stock car flamin'

A few years back, one of my officemates had a little problem with her advisor. She needed to get to her home country to do her research/reunite with her husband/get on with her life. And her advisor wouldn't let her defend her proposal, despite the fact that she'd been working on it for more than a year, and that it more than satisfied every other member of her committee. So she did something that became a bit of a legend in our department: she pulled the nuclear option. She just bought a plane ticket, said, "this is when I'm leaving," and informed her committee that they could either pass her or she'd be dropping out. They passed her, she moved home and had a baby, and all's right with the world.

I don't know if I'm that strong, but I am that frustrated. So, as of today, the tickets are in my hands. I leave Austin two weeks from tomorrow, and three weeks from today I'll be halfway there. I sent in the application for my visa this afternoon (please say a little prayer for that) and will work up the courage to tell my advisor before the weekend. Now I've just got to 1) finish and defend the thing, 2) pack up the house, 3) drive to Tennessee, and 4) pack for the unpredictable. Yikes.


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