We've been spending the day over here, talking to my friends and colleagues about all the people who have failed out of grad school or had some horrific graduate school experience. I feel like that'd be the real horror story, like "And then the lady worked for years and years on her thesis, gathering her data, until her professor rejected her hypothesis and told her that she'd have to work with a completely different data set and a totally new area of literature. WOOOOOOOO. And then when her final deadline was approaching, her chair and other members of her committee could not stop arguing until she failed entirely out of the program."
And let me tell you, like Lizzie Borden, that kind of stuff is NOT fictional. This sudden mercurial shift where years and years worth of work is thrown out on what might be a whim— maybe a previously unstated desire, is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night.
*clutches data set*
YOU WON'T GET ME. YOU WON'T.