(no subject)
My first semester of graduate school is over. I am alive, although my brain is so fried right now that I'm not sure if I will be able to function normally for a while. I return to Pennsylvania tomorrow for three weeks. I look forward to the break, although I'm not really sure how the whole decompression process is going to go... my guess is that I'm going to laze around the house for three days or so, and then get exceptionally bored from lack of intellectual stimulation. Hence why I'm bringing my Latin workbook for the plane ride. I also have my Roman paper to work on, which is due at the end of January. I don't think I will lack for things to do.
I turned in my other two papers today. I know that I worked really hard to bring them up par, but... I don't know. I had a very hard time letting go of them, simply because I have myself convinced that I missed some agregious grammatical error or omitted something super important ot blah blah blah. My nerves are getting the better of me. I couldn't operate a simple automated phone menu, told the lady at the auto shop my last name when she asked for my first, and ended up going to three places for cigarettes without even getting what I wanted. Ugh.
Sometimes I wonder if this is really what I should be doing with my life right now. By the time that I finish at Emory, I will have spent twenty-three consecutive years in school. I just don't know what else I would do with my life if not art history, and unfortunately this Ph.D. is required if I want to teach (which I do). So... yeah. I guess I just new to regroup and focus on the positive rather than how goddamn exhausted I am.
I turned in my other two papers today. I know that I worked really hard to bring them up par, but... I don't know. I had a very hard time letting go of them, simply because I have myself convinced that I missed some agregious grammatical error or omitted something super important ot blah blah blah. My nerves are getting the better of me. I couldn't operate a simple automated phone menu, told the lady at the auto shop my last name when she asked for my first, and ended up going to three places for cigarettes without even getting what I wanted. Ugh.
Sometimes I wonder if this is really what I should be doing with my life right now. By the time that I finish at Emory, I will have spent twenty-three consecutive years in school. I just don't know what else I would do with my life if not art history, and unfortunately this Ph.D. is required if I want to teach (which I do). So... yeah. I guess I just new to regroup and focus on the positive rather than how goddamn exhausted I am.