Some girls who aspire to become mothers can't pinpoint where their desire to experience the miracle of life comes from. It's an urge rooted deep in their biology and they just know it's right. Conversely, I can pinpoint exactly where my desire to write a thesis came from or at least, the seed for that desire.
I can't remember specifically which English teacher from elementary or middle school ignited this desire, so let's settle on the arbitrary Ms. K. She was teaching us a very simple and very useful bit of conventional knowledge when to put a title in quotations, and when to italicize it instead.
The distinction between the two, she told us, is very simple. The title of a minor work, or a work that is only part of a major work, goes in quotations. The title of a major work that stands on its own is italicized basically anything that you could buy in a bookstore. Does it warrant being printed between two covers and sold by its lonesome? Your average short story does not. A novel certainly does. Certain novellas squeak by.
Ever since then, I have wanted to produce something so significant that anybody writing about it (who am I kidding) would have to put it in italics. I wanted to give birth.
The parallels from this point on become remarkable so remarkable, in fact, that I'm going to start referring to the two acts interchangeably from time to time. I have confidence in your ability to follow along.
I had to wait a number of years after that fateful lesson from Ms. K before I was mentally able to give italicized birth. My mind wasn't ready, just as the body of an eight-year-old is physically unable to give birth to the miracle of life. Which brings us more or less to the present.
I began the search for a thesis topic in a similar fashion to how a prospective mother might seek out the seed for her future child: I went out and lived my life. I'm concentrating in creative writing, so I simply had to wait for inspiration to strike. But this process did require some effort, just as you can't get pregnant from sitting on the toilet.
And then, I missed my hypothetical period. Well, I didn't actually miss anything, but I did find my idea. My experiences as a camper and counselor at summer camp had proven so influential that I wanted to write a novel set in a fictional camp. The characters came to me, swimming into my mind like sperm to an egg in an animation shown in health class.
It takes nine months to give birth, and it will take me nine months to write my thesis. I'm in my second trimester. It's beginning to show.
I'm irritable and emotional. I feel like nobody understands what I'm going through, despite the fact that countless people have done it before me. My gynecologist's name is Catherine Tudish, a professor in the creative writing program. She takes a peek every now and again, just to make sure things are progressing in a healthy way. I'm avoiding all forms of intoxication, since I'm afraid of alcohol's negative effects on the thesis in my womb. I wouldn't want it to come out deformed because I had to have fun. I'm tired all the time. I'm able to cope with that, though, because writing a thesis is a terrific excuse to get out of almost anything, in the same way that pregnant women never have to carry anything heavy.
A lot of people ask me about my baby. I love the attention.
There are other serious perks. I have an office in the library, which is as awesome as it sounds. I guess there isn't really a parallel for that one, but I had to at least mention it.
I've informed my professors that I may require maternity leave. I let them know that I'm in the midst of my thesis, and that this may distract me from coursework from time to time. I hope that my pregnancy will not disturb my productivity at work, but I make no guarantees.
THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL is that I don't have to worry (as much) about the little shit once I give birth to it, which will happen when the Committee on Departmental Curriculum decides whether or not to award me honors, or whether to give me credit at all. Unlike a baby, I can bury the thesis in a box in my basement and never think about it again. It won't cry or vomit or need its diaper changed, which is great because I did pledge term once and I don't feel like doing it again.
