Friends, I’m tired. I’ve been working on this paper for over a week, and I have poems due today (including one I will have critiqued by the class) and a presentation to do tonight.
That’s just for class—my full-time day job is a different story.
That’s just for class—my full-time day job is a different story.
I’m nearing the end of my third academic year. This is my THIRD freaking year of this. On the days I have class, I’ll work a full day, drive allllll the way across the world for three hours of class and get home at 10 pm. God help me if I have anything else in my life I need to get done. The nights before are spent getting ready for it, usually neglecting things like dishes and picking up after myself. So the day or two after is usually spent scrubbing crust off of frying pans, raking dirty clothes into the hamper, watering dying plants and starting the homework process over again. This morning I got up at the crack to scrub a pile of dishes before work. I'll eat all three meals at a desk today.
I realize all this was a choice—and I’d make these choices again. I love what I study, I’m proud of my degree and I’m so glad (and thankful) to have a job that supports me. I’m a better writer, I’m excited about my thesis project, I love my friends and colleagues. And (drum roll), I’ve had two pieces published recently. One in Project for a New Mythology and one forthcoming in Prairie Poetry. Hooray! I know that when the coursework part is over, I’ll really miss the structure and community, blah blah blah blah blah blah.
However, I’m weary. And right now, I’m so sleep deprived that the woman in the next cube who just had a baby 6 weeks ago looks better rested and fresher than me. As for this paper and presentation: What the hell. People, I know how to write a freakin’ paper. I got a four-year undergrad degree in literature and I’ve been getting my MFA for three effing years. Give me a damn break. And presentations: I loathe them. They make me sweat and stammer and my mouth dry up. I’d much, much rather spend my time revising my work and sitting down with my professor to go over her comments so I can revise them again.
I have (hold on, let me count them…) ten more weeks left. Then I’m done with coursework. D.O.N.E.
I realize all this was a choice—and I’d make these choices again. I love what I study, I’m proud of my degree and I’m so glad (and thankful) to have a job that supports me. I’m a better writer, I’m excited about my thesis project, I love my friends and colleagues. And (drum roll), I’ve had two pieces published recently. One in Project for a New Mythology and one forthcoming in Prairie Poetry. Hooray! I know that when the coursework part is over, I’ll really miss the structure and community, blah blah blah blah blah blah.
However, I’m weary. And right now, I’m so sleep deprived that the woman in the next cube who just had a baby 6 weeks ago looks better rested and fresher than me. As for this paper and presentation: What the hell. People, I know how to write a freakin’ paper. I got a four-year undergrad degree in literature and I’ve been getting my MFA for three effing years. Give me a damn break. And presentations: I loathe them. They make me sweat and stammer and my mouth dry up. I’d much, much rather spend my time revising my work and sitting down with my professor to go over her comments so I can revise them again.
I have (hold on, let me count them…) ten more weeks left. Then I’m done with coursework. D.O.N.E.
2 comments:
Hang in there, darling. You're gonnna make it.
Yes, what she said. Hang in there Cavu! When you're done we'll have you over and I'll make you a martini the size of your head.
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