On Being Done
In about a week and a half, I will be the proud owner of a Bachelor’s of Arts in English.[1] It has taken me six years, including a pointless three semester stint studying the wrong major (Computer Science) to get to this point. I’m quite proud.
If there’s anything, this means I will officially be qualified to talk about the sort of things I started this blog to talk about. I can analyize, criticize and interpret with impunity. I’ll have the piece of paper to make the point. Furthermore, it’ll remove the biggest time-suck from my life… Academics have a way of pervading every aspect of one’s life. My limited free time between classes and work exists with further academic responsibilitys dangling over my head like a Sword of Damocles. It is finally going to be taken away, and I can finally focus on my personal projects, which include:
- This blog.
- Fifty-Two Stories
- Finally finishing Against the Day
- The rest of my pleasure reading
I am more than ready. All that stands between myself and glory are two exams and a five-page Philosophy paper. They will be finished, I will celebrate with drinks, and I will be free. Expect big things. Wish me luck.
- This, of course, is dependant on passing all my classes this semester, but the odds of that not happening seem fairly slim. ↩
w00t for being done! Being done is awesome! Hooray!
Of course, if you want to get the joy of being done again, what you could always do is pull a Rimmer on your last two exams, and then you can feel this good again NEXT semester! 8)
Well, I’d only fail because I wrote a discourse on Women in Love that was too… radical… too unconventional for the professor to accept!