My last post was at the last week of May.

Yes, I am fresh out of a 6-week hiatus. You, my fabled readers, might be wondering where I’ve been all this time.

Even though I’ve been sharing a few posts here and there from the Facebook page (which you should totally like and subscribe to!), I have to apologize for my prolonged absence.

But, it was for a good reason: I finished writing my thesis manuscript.

For those who don’t know, I’ve been taking up a master’s degree program in Environmental Science from the University of the Philippines Los Baños, or UPLB, since 2017.

3 years of graduate school. 6 grueling semesters plus a mandatory summer class. More than 4 semesters researching, writing, and crying over my thesis.

A thesis that made me question myself, my own credentials. “Am I supposed to be here?”

I was a landscape architect, typically associated with the arts. The more informed can see landscape architecture is also a science.

Yet, a few weeks after first walking into the corridors of SESAM, my home college in UPLB, I realized one thing: if I was crazy for ecology and science, my peers and professors were madlads.

It was frequent for me to feel asphyxiated as I attempted to decipher the terms and figures and jargon in my readings for my classes, while my friends were only slightly intimidated, if at all.

I felt more confused after professors taught advanced scientific concepts for 3 hours straight – I had yet to grasp the fundamental concepts of a topic supposedly taught in my high school science class.

I was perplexed whenever a classmate or a professor mentions technical jargon, and everyone else in the room but me seemed to understand what the fuck they were talking about.

And then there was my thesis…oh god.

In my undergraduate studies for landscape architecture, we did have a handful of classes entailing research. Yet, for the most part, we did design plates. Technical and conceptual drawings.

I was barely geared for the construction industry, let alone academic research.

For the record, I blame my lack of interest in research back in undergrad. Like many of my colleagues, I preferred the more interesting part of the course: drawing.

Perhaps I should’ve known better.

In the middle of researching for my thesis, I had realized that was going to be the first time I’ll have ever written a piece of scientific literature.

High school research papers don’t count; there was an element of bullshitting with them.

But my thesis…I cannot bullshit my way out.

Each journal article I tried to read spoke of concepts and used terms in a way that assumes the reader had some prior knowledge of what they were talking about.

Spoiler alert: I did not.

Perhaps if I took a more science-oriented undergraduate course, then I wouldn’t have to adjust so much. But, I was no time traveler.

Hence, why I took a two-year course for three years.

An extra year to catch up to the level of my peers, most of whom had graduated in time thanks to their science-related academic backgrounds.

For reference, a PhD program in the same college takes a minimum of three years as well.

Didn’t help that my impostor syndrome kicked in all too frequently.

Imagine trying to force yourself to write while the demon inside shouts, “Face it! You’re just bullshitting your way through your master’s degree! You know nothing!“

Try as I might, I couldn’t put down this demon for good. In fact, even after successfully defending my thesis in June, it still took me more than a month to push through the tail-end of my thesis-writing – all because the demon yells, “What you’ve written isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough!”

Despite this, push I did.

A few days ago, I had just finished editing, proofreading, and rewriting all 175 pages of my manuscript. I e-mailed it to my thesis adviser.

I waited for what seemed like months.

She replied,

In that instant, all the weight in my heart was lifted. I felt like I had just come out of a musky dark cave. All around me was light and fresh air.

And the vile demon was left trapped in the gloomy cavern. Granted, I can hear but the faintest echoes of its bellows. Will I see it again? I don’t know, and I don’t care.

Because I’m out.

If not for current events, I would be excited for the pictorials, the practice sessions, the graduation rites. Alas, I’ll have to wait for next year until I can march.

But it doesn’t matter, because I’m out.

I am proud to say: I am now a master of environmental science.

Well, there’s still university clearance. And the science journal article required alongside the manuscript…

Well, whatever. I’ve crawled my way out of the cave. Surely, I can cross the bridge when I get there.