I have just decided to do a Masters degree. Eek!
It was always on the cards, but I didn't really make up my mind until this last week, and I was pretty blasé about it, considering it the safe option that logically followed my Honours year and wouldn't require much more pressure.
Have suddenly realised I am incredibly unintelligent when it comes to predicting my future. I am freaking out. When it comes down to it and I actually have to put some work into finding a topic, I realise that suddenly I am studying at an academic level at which originality is crucial, and all the topics I had in mind have been done already. I realise that I am plunging into a world where I will not be having weekly meetings with my supervisor, like last year, nor his constant guidance; where the entire Department of History staff are going to hear my proposal and grill me on it, in a few short weeks from now; where famous historians are going to read the end product (if, indeed, I finish) and tell me what's wrong with it. *long, drawn-out scream*
Why am I doing this to myself? What possesses people to take on postgraduate study? I have a horrible fear that suddenly everyone will realise that everything I've done so far that has turned out to be halfway good has been a complete fluke.
Moving Day: Blog in Review
1 year ago