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I worried and sweated over my dissertation the most while I was avoiding it. At dinner, at the movies, singing karaoke-- it loomed. I hefted this 200-page boulder around (literally and metaphorically) for years as it poisoned my life. I remember sitting down to a pleasant lunch with some old friends about six months into drafting. One friend bravely inquired about my writing. My (very mature) response was:
“I hate it. I just HATE IT!”
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