I feel like I am about to have a nervous breakdown. Now I totally understand why Virginia Woolf had bouts of mental illness and eventually killed herself. Her own writing drove her crazy! I am not saying it is bad or anything, it is just complex – the more you dig into it the more you find, and then the more you want to unravel, and eventually you are blinded by her brilliance.
Argh! I am trying to get my paper done for my Woolf seminar – I want to get it done so I can relax yet I keep finding interesting stuff in my research. The paper just keeps growing and growing, and I want to keep adding; it is hard to control. I already know I need to rewrite the damn thing and it is not even finished – it is not that my idea, my hypothesis, is bad; it is that there really is something to it and the topic is much broader than I originally thought. And I thought I had chosen something narrow, small, and manageable – just a little reading of one item, what it symbolizes in her novels. Gargh – yeah. I can’t explain until I finish my paper and copyright it, ha.
Jacquelyn's Space 
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