Oh my god it is finally over.

IT IS DONE.

66 pages and just over 17,000 words later, I have finished my dissertation. I wanted to throw up for a bit there, I was so wound up. But I can breathe again now that I've laid my paws on some booze and have eaten ALL THE THINGS. I look it over tomorrow, then I print it, get it bound, burnt to a CD, and I submit it on Wednesday.

AND THEN I SPEND THE REST OF TOMORROW PROCRASTINATING LIKE A BOSS. I will be watching the H50 finale, and then writing my black little heart out. I have so many things to write, that I actually want to write, it's brilliant!

One other reason, though, that makes me want to throw up is that, like I moaned to andrealyn an hour ago, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get cut out of the H50 Big Bang. Which would be fair, you know, I didn't make the 20K wordcount, not by a long shot -- together with this morning's procrastination, it's just 200 words off 10K. It's making me sick, because I am totally in love with that story, but everything that's happened -- my nephew, help_japan, dissertation -- I just haven't had the time I've wanted to devote to it. It's making me so disappointed in myself.

I mean, I'm not gonna let it go. I am totally going to finish it, no matter whether I'm allowed to proceed or not. It's clamouring to be written in my head, and now that I CAN give it my undivided attention, it's going to pour or punch its way out of me, one way or another.

To be honest, I hadn't realised just how stressed I was making myself thinking about it until this morning. sheafrotherdon has put up this gorgeous story that I loved, but there was a point in it where, ngl, I just burst into tears and sobbed for like ten minutes straight. ( Discussion of major character death under cut. I know I would like to be warned if I stumbled across this )

Yeah, weird, tell me about it. Anyway, I'm off to write Steve/Danny IN LOVE, ALWAYS IN LOVE, and maybe squeeze in watching the new Who ep somewhere, since people keep telling me it's the most awesome thing since ice cream. THE POINT IS, I CAN.

FOR YOUR TIME (shamelessly nabbed off delicatale):



ETA: NNNNNNNNNNGH, ARMS.