Dear Dissertation Diary

I was never good at keeping a diary.  I always thought that diary-writing was a romantic hobby that required pristine notebooks and delicate pens. That I would have to pour out my soul by candlelight and weave an intricate narrative of my tumultuous life. I had many pretty notebooks and prettier pens but they never lasted very long. The frustrations of messy writing and inconsistent formatting always made me lose interest and I could never keep a proper journal for more than a few days. Aesthetics aside, the usual diaries tended to remind me of all the ways that my life was uninteresting and unworthy of writing down and I never had anything salacious or exciting or witty enough to commit to paper.  When I entered grad school I realized that I hated writing but I was too committed to the bit to back out so I had to find a way to force myself to enjoy - or at the very least tolerate - a consistent writing routine. I had already started storing some of my course notes in a word p...