Tuesday, May 08, 2007
now you have to call me master.
i turned in my thesis this morning. after some ridiculous and, frankly, probably predictable hi-jinks (i don't really want to tell the story, just: i can't believe i thought i could make it through without exposing myself as peculiarly unsuited towards life as an adult) most of the graduating and all of the schoolwork is over. on thursday, the real graduation day, i'm going to c0ney island with a bunch of classmates and their families to get high and ride the cyclone. i think i already told you that. but anyway, thesis: out of my hands.
just like that. yesterday i was working on it, and today it's over.
i have a problem with the ontology of endings. i don't like that they happen. i could have guessed that maybe this would be a tough go.
really, though. on the day we finished our symposium presentations (the closest thing to a mini-defense in this program), i was class A number one poster girl for the clinical-D. weeping for no cause; felt like i wasn't even inside the room, just watching everyone else celebrate. as if my meds had never been invented. like i told the best one last night, after the real graduation, it felt like what was culminating at this culminating event wasn't achievement but the assorted scars and shames and anxieties of this whole last year, which--don't get me wrong, i had an okay time--i can't help but thinking of as the most exhausting year of my life. just . . . oh.
there is a way for school not to be about paralyzing anxiety and paranoid shame. i need to find it. maybe it won't be the same issue next year, what with all this under my belt. really, it can't be, because i won't make it through.
there also won't be a wedding to plan. that'll help.
just a few days ago i had this epiphany at the staten island ferry terminal. i was so glad, i realized, not to be in the thrall of theatre business, for the first time as an adult. it felt so good not to need it. it made me feel like i could go back, from a (forgive the deep@k ch0pra, here) place of power and have a good time performing, if i wanted. it felt good not to feel so owned by something that steadfastly refused to love me back.
that's a little melodramatic. what i was thinking, though, is how important it is that academia doesn't turn into the next Bad Boyfriend Career. if it's about holding my breath and flailing until i believe i'm good enough, i don't want to do it. the next four years can't be like the last one, as useful and revelatory as the accomplished work has been. you must chill. you must do some art projects. you must eat actual dinner.
and for the love of whatever, you have to stop wanting to hurt yourself everytime someone says something smarter than you. i mean, really. are you fourteen years old or what? get. over it.
all right. let's get married, people.
just like that. yesterday i was working on it, and today it's over.
i have a problem with the ontology of endings. i don't like that they happen. i could have guessed that maybe this would be a tough go.
really, though. on the day we finished our symposium presentations (the closest thing to a mini-defense in this program), i was class A number one poster girl for the clinical-D. weeping for no cause; felt like i wasn't even inside the room, just watching everyone else celebrate. as if my meds had never been invented. like i told the best one last night, after the real graduation, it felt like what was culminating at this culminating event wasn't achievement but the assorted scars and shames and anxieties of this whole last year, which--don't get me wrong, i had an okay time--i can't help but thinking of as the most exhausting year of my life. just . . . oh.
there is a way for school not to be about paralyzing anxiety and paranoid shame. i need to find it. maybe it won't be the same issue next year, what with all this under my belt. really, it can't be, because i won't make it through.
there also won't be a wedding to plan. that'll help.
just a few days ago i had this epiphany at the staten island ferry terminal. i was so glad, i realized, not to be in the thrall of theatre business, for the first time as an adult. it felt so good not to need it. it made me feel like i could go back, from a (forgive the deep@k ch0pra, here) place of power and have a good time performing, if i wanted. it felt good not to feel so owned by something that steadfastly refused to love me back.
that's a little melodramatic. what i was thinking, though, is how important it is that academia doesn't turn into the next Bad Boyfriend Career. if it's about holding my breath and flailing until i believe i'm good enough, i don't want to do it. the next four years can't be like the last one, as useful and revelatory as the accomplished work has been. you must chill. you must do some art projects. you must eat actual dinner.
and for the love of whatever, you have to stop wanting to hurt yourself everytime someone says something smarter than you. i mean, really. are you fourteen years old or what? get. over it.
all right. let's get married, people.
