Don't Ask Me About My Thesis

I have come to speak on the summit--the pinnacle of my Harvard career. I am senior. Hear me roar. About what? My thesis.

"So are you writing a thesis?" ask people.

"Yes," I reply.

Now if you are a senior like me, you are probably cringing because you also must face the daunting task of choosing that one topic which you will embrace, study and finally write like mad about.

You know how difficult it is, how your thesis is like a long-running mental marathon in which you read, write and read some more. You know how annoying the line of inquiries concerning your thesis becomes, how you would like to continue in your state of denial for at least a little while longer, remaining peacefully oblivious to the long road of writing ahead. This is not a paper you crank out the night before, not, at least, if you want to stay sane.

Male thesis writers, excuse me, but I find the thesis process a little like giving birth. Think of it: you conceive the idea, it gestates for roughly nine months and finally you produce something that you alone have brought into this world.

Your thesis--it's your baby. You even have a doctor on call, your adviser. Regardless, this entity can keep you up at night in worry, tending to it, reading for it.

So far, I have successfully avoided actually discussing my thesis, and I understand that you might reach a lull in the conversation. I know the problem--I was once the one posing these questions to thesis-writing seniors. I know better now. So I inquire, fair reader, why bother to ask?

You are asking me to remove a dam protecting months--even years--of accumulated knowledge. You might be swept away in the undertow if I really let my ideas rip.

But I rarely do. Instead I describe my thesis topic succinctly and end the phrase with, "and, you know, all that good stuff."

"So how's your thesis going?" asks a friend of mine.

"Fine, thanks."

The friend rebukes my neutral response. "Nancy, you've got to say that your thesis is kicking your ass."

"Really?" "Yeah, trust me. Let's try this again," my friend coaches. "So how's your thesis going?"

"It's kicking my ass," I say.

"That's better."

I smile.

So, let me ask the reader something.

Should you inquire about someone's thesis?

"No?"

Good, that's much better answer!

And if you really want to know about someone's thesis--if you are really into sharing someone's joy and pain, ask to read it when it's done. We will be grateful for your attention then. After all, we will have a lot of proofreading to do before we hand it in. Nancy Milagros Trasande' 99 is a literature concentrator in Cabot House. She expects to deliver on March 15 at 2 p.m.