After a year of gestaton, it's over. My water broke last week when Dr. Newell finally said that the working draft looked "pretty good." The final contractions came in the form of nearly 160 pages of printing and $2.45 worth of binder clips. G-Fresh, acting as midwife, delivered the three weighty packets - still warm from the printer's womb - to the mailboxes of my committee members while I sucked on ice cubes and kept doing those breathing excercises. I hope I can get my figure back...
And now, I have no idea what to do. I have carried this thing within me for so long that I feel empty and antsy without it. I know that I could just play online poker and read webcomics all evening, but I can't seem to relax and enjoy the slack. There are no more journal articles that need to be read, no more statistics that need to be researched, no further revisions to make... and that feels very wrong right now.
I'm sure that it will all make sense soon enough. I probably just need a good cigar and an old-fashioned drunk to kick this feeling. Thank the gods for textbook buyback...
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3 comments:
It still feels strange not having something to be reading, or writing, or researching or finishing eight months after leaving...
The strangeness does subside. Unfortunately, it usually involves replacement with deadlines surrounding jobs. Becoming an "adult" doesn't make it go away, just changes the sensation.
Drink. Heavily. Probably, cry some (post-partum depression and all that). Read a novel-- it's like research, but for fun! Keep drinking. Did I say you could stop?
And finally-- hearty congratulations. You're done!
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