God, I can’t tell you how weird it is to write that. It’s been this guilty millstone around my neck for so long, anytime I’d start to enjoy or work on something I’d think “but shouldn’t I be writing my dissertation?”
And now it’s over. “Splitting Aztlán: American Resistance and Chicana Visions of a Radical Utopia” is in a queue to have her formatting checked over by my university’s editors. Soon she will be on ProQuest, searchable by anyone who cares to look. My days as a student are, at last, numbered.
Ironically, now that my dissertation is turned in, I can’t leave her alone. I’ve made a dozen minute corrections, found typos, glaring errors, whatever. I keep uploading new versions.
Paul tells me that down this path lies madness, something I already know something about. But she calls to me, wanting me to read, re-read and edit. The document is so far from perfect I can hardly stand it.
Must leave it alone. It’s done.
Besides, I’ve got a talk for NACCS to get ready.