I spent my day today sparring with Freud et al. as well as some of the things that I have wrestled with throughout my life. My critical studies supervisor is a Lacanian psychoanalyst, and so for my “thesis” I decided to write a kind of autobiographical piece, accompanied by some theory to try to explain at least in part how I may have come to be the way I am. Getting it all out proved to be not so difficult. Writing about how I perceive my life and certain important relationships in it is not hard. Making it all sit together and come across eloquently is less easy. After finishing and editing and printing and re-editing and reprinting, I am done with it. I had thought that this might lead to me wanting to actually write autobiographically. Wrong. I have discovered that I am not at all interested in putting my life out there in that way. After my essay has been marked I would like to see it burned. Never read by another living soul. Urg. That is my word for the week. Urg. URG!