Poe-etical musings on a thesis

Once upon a late night dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a boring volume of horrendous thesis lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my carrel door.

‘It’s some idiot,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my carrel door —

Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

As each desperate dying senior writhed in pain on the B-floor.

Wishing that it were tomorrow, I’d been to the desk to borrow

More books while I sobbed in sorrow — sorrow for my grades, so poor —

For the sinking grade point average which the law schools shall abhor —

Rejecting me for evermore.

And the quiet beat, so muffled, of my iTunes music, shuffled,

Thrilled me — filled me with the sounds of alt-rock heard so much before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

‘It’s a friend procrastinating, knocking at my carrel door —

Some procrastinating friend is knocking at my carrel door; —

This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my mind grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Dude,” I said, “You’re being sketchy; state your name, please, I implore;

Can’t you tell that I was napping when so rudely you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my carrel door,

That I barely even heard you” — here I opened wide the door; —

Hallway there, and nothing more.

Deep into that dim light peering, wondering now if faulty hearing

Had been ever featured in a pamphlet from McCosh before,

I instead left fears unspoken, though my nerves were frayed and broken;

And the only noises came from napping students who did snore.

Napping students, failed by Red Bulls, heads on desks on the B-floor —

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the carrel turning, alt-rock songs in my ears churning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Maybe kids with drunk demeanors are now playing pranks on seniors;

Let me see, then, what they’re doing, and this mystery explore —

Let me chill out for a minute and this mystery explore; —

It’s the drunks and nothing more!’

Then I peeked outside, suspicious, half-expecting something vicious.

Out of nowhere stepped a wise alumnus from the days of yore.

Not a single word was spoken, so the silence stretched unbroken;

But he walked into my carrel, sitting calmly on the floor.

Sitting calmly in the corner, legs crossed on my carrel floor.

Sat, and stared, and nothing more.

Suddenly no longer sleepy, thinking that this guy was creepy,

I was almost overwhelmed by all the Princeton gear he wore.

“You,” I said, “look like a loon; Reunions were way back in June;

However, you look like you just went shopping at the Princeton store.

What are you, ’08? ’09? And what’s your name, you silly bore?”

Quoth the alumnus, “Nevermore.”

“OK,” I said, “did you complete this tiny horror called a thesis?”

(Too polite, was I, to laugh at his weird name of Nevermore.)

Said I: “As you can probably tell, I’m sitting here in thesis hell.”

But he kept staring straight ahead, like even blinking was a chore.

Silently, he stared and stared as if to move would be a chore.

An odd alum, this Nevermore.

Getting angry, I then asked him with a small touch of sarcasm,

“What, did you get lost while on a student-guided campus tour?

Or if in some bygone year you got a real degree from here

Why don’t you tell me what department you wrote your damn thesis for?

You needed one to graduate, so what department was it for?”

Quoth the alumnus, “Nevermore.”

Suddenly he burst out crying, “I was writing, I was trying,

But I couldn’t work! My life was filled with other things galore.

One year, time-wise, should be plenty, but I only hit page twenty.

Even my JP was longer than this academic sore!

Soon I realized finishing was not my future anymore.

Never finished. Nevermore.”

Then he rose and ran away, and I’ve not seen him to this day,

Although his impact did not fade, and so to that effect I swore

That I would not procrastinate, at least not as the year got late;

And so this monstrous beast I’ll tackle rather than sit and ignore.

Thesis, I will finish you, procrastinating nevermore;

And not end up like Nevermore.

Disclaimer: I wrote this while procrastinating.

Christine Brozynski is a politics major from Mendham, N.J. She can be reached at cbrozyns@princeton.edu.