jack of all trades, master of nothing

Can't...work...anymore... Since 13:00 Sunday afternoon, have spent 90% of my waking hours staring at the computer screen, producing 'output' and revising again and again. Cabin-fever set in yesterday evening and the moment I stepped out of the flat, The Doves' 'Black and White Town' blasting, I'm stunned by a wave of euphoria. I grin big walking to Baker St station, smirk stupidly at everyone on the tube, watch all the passers-by at London Bridge, the awareness of being in London slowly dawning on me again. Nerm' and I stroll along the bank at night, snapping photos of London sparkling at night, pondering selections at Ben and Jerry's in Leicester Square, all the while spouting non-sequiturs in giddy excitement. The finish is so close I can taste it.

Can you believe we're almost Masters? she asks. I still have problems associating 12 months of random theory and frenetic research with the title 'Master of Arts'. Me, a master of arts. I stiffle the sarcastic snort. Just pass me already and dejame aprovechar del poco sol que queda!