The Aftermath: It's 11 AM and I'm in my underpants. I'm home alone. The TV is on but I'm not watching it. Even though I've cued up a show on the DVR that I've been dying to watch. Even though the volume is most of the way up. I can't focus on it. I can't commit. I'm not here.
The dust has finally settled. The noise is gone. The stress has melted and even the lingering cool water of the aftermath has begun to evaporate. I'm in a new place, enjoying the fruits of my hard work. And by that I mean sitting in my underpants in the living room and eating Oreos at 11 AM. I'm gloriously unburdened and reveling in the temporary wonderment of it all. It's glorious. It's miraculous.
The Oreos are double stuffed and I am unflappable.
I took my last final almost two weeks ago ((Day 84) and, if I'm being honest, I was only vaguely engaged. I had gotten over the most difficult hurdle and had already breathed my sigh of relief and begun to relax, despite the fact that there was still work to be done. I studied nonetheless and showed up to campus to had breakfast and center myself beforehand.
I showed up a few minutes early and only about half the class was there. Exam time came and a number of students were still missing. The TA cleared her throat. "We'll wait a few more minutes and then we'll begin." By the time the exam started, three students were still MIA. I finished early and left the room. Exiting the building, I passed one of the missing students rushing on their way to the exam. "I overslept!" he said. I kept walking.
When I decided to leave college more than a decade ago, I felt awful about my decision until I walked out of the Wilbur Cross building. At that moment, the clouds parted, the sun came out in full force, and I couldn't help but smile. I don't believe in signs but, at the time, it sure felt like one. I held on to the memory of that moment for years, recalling it whenever doubt began creeping in about my decision to leave school.
This day, I earned a new memory.
I walked outside, grinning ear to ear. The campus was still littered with sleep-deprived ill-tempered students but I could care less. My book bag felt lighter. The sun seemed a little brighter. I walk/danced over to the library smiling at strangers like an insane person. I got halfway up the stairs before it occurred to me that I had nothing left to do there. I went up anyone, skipping stairs along the way.
I was done.
Q: "So, how'd you do?"
A: Straight B's.
So, I earned a 3.0. Hooray for me! Right? Well... mostly.
On the one hand, I'm very happy with that outcome. I worked hard and earned above average marks in every one of my classes. 15 credits worth of B's is not a bad showing for my first semester back after over a decade away. But on the other hand, I'm a little disappointed with myself. I expected to blow the doors off the semester and walk away with a helpless 4.0 wriggling in my merciless bloody maw.
I think now that I'm back in the swing of things (read: acclimated [read: fully matriculated]) next semester will be easier. And by "easier" I mean that I'm entirely comfortable setting the bar higher than 3.0
In just a few weeks, I'll be starting summer course work and, shortly after that, fall course work. And I 'll blog the whole bloody mess. I promise. Because, honestly, I can't help myself.
For now, though, I've got Oreos to eat. And bunny slippers on my feet. And something else that rhymes with sleep.
And something else that rhymes with sleep.
Until the summer, gang...
#onedown
You GO!
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