Grad School’s Bitch


No. I have not dispparated, fallen off the earth or otherwise been absconded by a very hot cabana boy (sadly). Do not despair—because I’m doing enough for the entirety of China and India combined—I am here, buried beneath textbooks and journals and articles- oh, my! It’s just that I have simply become Grad School’s Bitch.

Graduation Day 1995
Graduation Day 1995

I do not recall any time in my life, including undergrad, when I have been utterly and completely sucked into committing myself to something. Although, college was 15 years ago, and what do I really remember between the beer and emotional devastation that consisted of 17-21 years old? In either case, I am mesmerized by the dominion in which I now dwell. Wake up, class, lunch, class, work study, class, read, class, read, read, eat (my words), read, sleep, class, read, read in my sleep, write, present, write, read ad nauseam. Literally (that’s for you Enzo Dominic Graci) to the point of feeling sick.

But amidst my overwhelmed and exceedingly freaked out state, I search for the smallest voice attempting to remind me this is what I want and I am where I belong. Either comforted or terrifically alarmed at the realization, I cannot imagine any other place I could be right now. This is it—if not this, then nothing. I’m quite convinced talking in absolutes does not aid my “calm the eff down and you will be all right” cause. However, it is genuinely what occurs to me. This is opening doors. This is breaking down walls. This is pushing me harder and faster than I am comfortable. This is giving me direction and a strength I cannot conceive of, never mind the wealth of knowledge I will gain. This is putting me fifty grand in debt.

Crap.

Yet, I proceed with deep breaths, prayers to the abundance faeries and plenty of coffee.

And, if there is no other way to persuade myself into surrendering to my reality, I can say with definite authority I am resisting The Yawn. (Except that is, when I stay up too late reading 100 pages of theory).

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