the deadline has been met. well, stretched to breaking, then slapped in the face. at any rate, all of the build up and hustle i've been killing myself over for the last month finally ended at 4:25 this afternoon.
g-l-o-r-i-a.
now i don't know what to do with myself. i find myself sitting at the tea house, working on a very late second guinness, and not being able to carry on a conversation with everyone because my mind has got the mental bends from coming up from under all of that work so suddenly. what am i supposed to do with myself now that i don't have an endless heap of work on my to-do list? i find myself wanting to write about the work. i guess it wouldn't be a terrible idea to start the roughs on the thesis, but i think i might raise some eyebrows from the husband and other close friends if i don't at least pretend to take a break for a couple of days.
i leave for wilmington on tuesday, right after proctoring the historical exam for blair. poor little freshies, they have no idea what's ahead of them. i remember looking at the outgoing seniors last year, at the amount of work they were doing and the stresses that they were under, and being at least a sort-of forward looking person, i could feel the seeds of panic settle in. i feel like i've had a steadily building ringing in my ears for a year and a half. i feel like a david lynch score that's just gone silent after 2 discordant hours. i feel like something very strange is about to happen; the panic has taken on a paranoid tone, with nothing to grasp on to.
but enough with the neurosis. what a fucking downer. right now, i'm sitting at the tea house, by myself, on my second guinness, and the guy with the guitar just started playing 'feeling groovy.' ...
nevermind, i'm not shaking this surreal feeling any time soon. might as well drown it in drink and wake up tomorrow with blind shame.
wonder what liz is up to.
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