I've been meaning to write a new post for a while now. Since I know that my blog really only reaches a select few, I considered just holding back on my stories for the week so I could really give you a great post. For Neal and Mom, sorry, you got the stories already.
During most of the semester, today's plan was to be the biggest celebration every. You see, I was supposed to have defended my thesis yesterday, passed with brilliance, finished my biggest work project, turned in my final coursework, and turned in grades for my own teaching.
It didn't happen.
...
The ellipses were a sign that I was sighing and sort of crying a bit on the inside.
If I am really honest with myself, I am pretty bummed out. I don't want to pay more tuition or have several more intense weeks worth of research and writing. I want to graduate, dang it! One reason this is such a big deal to me is because it's the first time I have really felt like I accomplished anything of merit scholastically. You see, I always knew I would graduate from high school and college. I did well, I lived for the learning experiences. My grades (and social life) reflected my priorities well. Sure, I did some extra work during my undergraduate experience, but by the time I graduated, I was one week away from graduate school and just plain tired. I knew I had to change something about my educational outlook.
So my first degree didn't really feel like much of an accomplishment. It was just a checkpoint on the way to grad school. When I began my Master's degree, I decided I needed to be more well rounded, which included sleeping more, spending time with friends more, and treating school more like a job than a life choice. It changed me. Heck, it's part of the reason I got married (because, you know, I made to be with Neal). I'm no longer a scholastic over achiever. At least not like I used to be. It doesn't mean I'm less stressed. Any of you who know me well, know that I'm always stressed.
But because I took a little less time with my schooling, now I have to take a little more time with my schooling. I don't regret my decisions leading here, but I'm more tired than I'd imagined I could be. For the last two days since I finished teaching for the semester I've just slept, eaten cheese sandwiches, and fluctuated between White Collar and Farscape television. No dishes, no real cooking, nada. And today I can't help but wonder how it will feel when I'm really done.
I hope that the exhaustion isn't so overwhelming that I can't really see the benefits of my years of effort. Funny thing is, in many ways I still won't feel done. The Bowden family standard for educational excellence is set pretty high (I know, I know, they don't expect that of me). The real issue here is that I love learning. I always have and I always will. But I think perhaps I'm ready for a different kind of learning than my coursework offers. I'm not really sure what that is yet, but soon I will find out.
And heck, when I really graduate peeps, we're having a party. A big one. I may even dress up. I may even pay for expensive robes so I can be hooded. I hope you'll come to the ridiculously long ceremony, even though I didn't give two cents if you came to my high school or undergrad one. I hope you'll throw flowers at my feet and give three cheers for me. Most of all, I hope that I will be able to take joy in that moment.
Okay, that should be the end of my post, but since it's been so long since I posted last, I have more stuff to say. So, here are the stories of the week.
Neal and I have had this mini competition going recently. In case you hadn't heard, we were trying to see how long we could go without turning on the furnace. The mornings have been colder and colder. When I work at home, I bundle up in blankets. I wash dishes or cook casseroles or do laundry to keep the temperature up. This week I got up and could see my breath inside the house. All the windows were iced over. I tried our space heater to get my working area to a respectable temperature, but to no avail. I texted Neal because I found it so funny that our thermometer said it was 38 degrees F in the house. And then we finally decided to give in. We turned the furnace on. Well, sort of. We turned the thermostat down to the lowest it will go, somewhere below sixty, and then turned it on. I don't know if Neal and I just adjusted to a really cold house, but it feels great. I can't imagine turning up the heat to sixty even. There you go, if you ever want to take the challenge, talk to us. We know the tricks.
This week was also the last day of teaching for me. I promised my students early in the semester that we'd have delicious food the last day. It was a bit more of a fiasco than I'd anticipated. I began the day before with some muffins. My friend Rinda shared a family recipe for Brown Sugar Muffins and I've already made them a few times. I whipped up a double batch and let them heat the house (it was pre-furnace stage). As they baked I made a terrible realization. In my haste to bake and my efforts to be impressive in adding ingredients with finesse, I forgot the vanilla. Those muffins were not the best. I made another double batch, but still had to bring some of the more bland ones to class.
My second portion of the meal was a hashbrown and egg casserole. Originally, I intended on getting up at about four to make sure it was ready in time for Neal to drop me off on campus when he left for school. One of my assistants offered me a ride, so I slept in. A bit too late actually. I got the casserole in about twenty minutes late and with only ten more minutes before she'd arrive it was still runny. Panicked, I turned the temperature up another 25 degrees, then another. Luckily, it finished in time, but I was sweating a bit there. So, with muffins, casseroles, chocolate milk, jams, and freshly mixed juice, I was on my way. A few blocks from the parking lost my assistant went over a small bump, my fingers slipped, and the huge pitcher of orange juice fell over. It only took a second for the three quarts to glide out and form a very citrus puddle for my galoshes. I felt terrible for getting her car messy (luckily she has plastic mats which held the water nicely), but even more terrible for wasting all that delicious juice. I mean, really, it would have been so refreshing! With my three assistants help we made it up Old Main Hill with the remaining food, lucky since it was the coldest and iciest day this week.
So, that's it folks. For university students, this week is usually called 'dead week.' It's the week when you just fall over dead from all the work you have left and all the study time you need for finals. I may not be graduated yet, but this week sure has been full of many seeming lasts, at least for a while. My last class as a student and my last class as a teacher at USU. It's a little scary looking ahead to the world of possibilities. As Neal and I figure out when we should move a bit more south and I figure out my thesis, my job, and my future plans it's weird to realize that I'm so close to the end of something. I won't jump ahead yet though, I've still got a lot of work ahead of me: miles to go before I rest.
