As of this week I am no longer PHD V, but I think I’ll cling to the designation a little longer.  I had intended to finish my dissertation in year five.  I am not finished, but I’m not ready to accept the “VI” yet, either.

Sometimes it feels like I’ll never be finished.  Sometimes it feels like I’ve never not been working on a dissertation. Like, I’m pretty sure I’ve persisted in this state for centuries:  always anxious, probably procrastinating, never finished.

While contemplating the big tick-over from V to VI, I realized how much I identify with the guy in Eraserhead, the one stuck with the scary baby. Like him I am saddled with a creepy thing, one I brought into the world, and for which I am responsible. The thing just lies there, crying its creepy, inhuman cries, utterly helpless, making less sense every time you look at it.  I think it might be messing with me, too.

At some point, I must have thought it was a good idea to be Dr. Whereishere.  I just hope it ends better for me than it did for him.

I feel your pain, guy from Eraserhead.