I’m done I’m done I’m done, thank you tea, God, and Elmer Fudd, I’m Done!
Ahem. Some context, perhaps? Yeah, that might be good.
I have now written, edited, turned in, bled, cried, and sweat over the very last paper of the Academic Year From Hell. I’m finally done now, and free to do all the things that I haven’t had time for in the mad scrambling of the last six weeks or so.
Things like writing, and reading all the delicious books I got for Christmas, and sleeping, and sitting on the swings at 3 o’clock in the morning, and drawing and painting and playing catch up with bloggers and cleaning my room. Of course there are icky grownup things in there too, things that still need to be seen to — things like doctors’ appointments and meetings and filing my taxes — but that does not change the fact that I am now freed from the pressure of trying to achieve academic perfection.
It feels really fuckin’ good.
And, also, really fuckin’ weird. I mean, for the last eight months, every day has been about school: about planning readings and weekly papers around chores and sleep and social obligations, about squeezing every last drop of critical thought out of my brain to pour into end-of-term papers, studying for midterms and finals, hauling ass out of bed and doing the Zombie Shuffle to get to class on time, and the constant gut-gnawing tension, the awareness, that whatever I’m doing right now, I should be doing reading/paper/presentation/assignment [x], [y], or [z]. Living without that ever-present awareness, without always feeling like doing anything non-academic is slacking off, without the (mostly self-imposed) pressure to excel . . . it’s going to take some getting used to.
But I’m up for the challenge.
I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.