2005-05-06 - 7:18 a.m.
It's 7 am, and I'm sitting outside the Graduate Studies Office. I thought there would be a line, but instead, I'm the only one here - I am the line. I am here to turn in my Master's Report (30 pages of blood, sweat and tears), signed by both my advisor and my second reader (the latter actually signed it without even reading it, such is her faith in my ability to wax rhapsodic about digital file preservation), and my graduation paperwork (three vague sheets of paper that I can only pray have the appropriate signatures). I could have done this at any point in the semester, turned in the relevant paperwork, but I'm ending much as I began, I suppose. I'd almost forgotten that I didn't find out I'd gotten into my graduate program until I was in South America - Vilcabamba, Ecuador, to be exact, where, on the slowest and most expensive dial-up connection in the world, the same day I found out was also the same day I asked for an extension of my admission.
I did make it here, though, and, like I always say, as soon as I made the decision to come, doors opened up for me. Or so it seemed. I got a TA position almost immediately, and then my tuition was paid, and I had insurance and a paycheck to boot. I volunteered. I was involved.
Now, I'm just done. A little burnt out, I suppose (it's been nothing but Master's Report for weeks now, day and night). But I'm done (more or less - only two more papers, but after what I've been through, I'm not concerned). And am I really so different? Well, I'm typing this on my new Apple Powerbook, the nicest thing I've ever owned, bar none. And for graduation, I've asked for an external hard drive (my mom wanted to give me jewelry). I doubt the me of two years ago would have asked for that. I'm waiting to hear back about a Library of Congress internship for the summer - the only thing I've ever applied for that I actually feel qualified for. If that falls through, I've got travel plans - two weeks in New York in June, a month in Mexico with the Swiss boy, who will be visiting. And then maybe London in September, for six months, to work and to watch my brother become a published author. I can't really think much beyond that, actually, but for once, that's quite all right.
People are starting to trickle in, but I'm still the only one in line. I hope to have everything turned in and stamped and notated by 8:05 am, after which I'm treating myself to breakfast out. Soon, I'll have so much free time, I won't know what to do with myself.