The light at the end of the tunnel is visible, but right now all it does is illuminate the barriers between where I am and where I need to be.
It is a comfort to know that whatever happens, whether I finish everything or not, a week from Monday this first year of doctoral coursework will be over. So, even if I fail miserably, the strain must come to end eventually. I find this oddly comforting. I suppose like anyone who knows his fate is sealed there is some relief in accepting that, like it or not, he’ll soon be moving toward the light.
The last nine months or so have been a marathon of due dates and late nights, of worrying about grades on the assignments I’ve turned in and about grading the assignments my students have turned into me.
Nevertheless, I’ve enjoyed it. My teachers have been stimulating and my fellow students fun. Class discussions have been mostly animated and stirring. I do feel like I am being made more of a professional academic, more equipped for research, more adept at thinking which, I suppose, is the point of the whole thing.
Even these benefits don’t mean I’m not worn out. I’m tired, feeling like a husk, a dried life. I need summer. The hardest thing about this program is that the time I once would have devoted to writing or other creative pursuits, now has to go to schoolwork. I have a plethora of creative pursuits I’m considering for the summer. I’m thinking seriously about learning to juggle. Who knows when the ability to simultaneously keep three flaming swords in the air will come in handy in the classroom?
