Break From Paper Writing

Yes it's that time of year again, and despite the fact that I have about 4 days to throw down a lot of writing, the simple fact that I don't have applications to fill out, and an uncertain future to contemplate, has me in a completely different head space.

I've been making sounds of distress to friends and family about my quickly approaching twenty-eighth birthday, but the truth is I don't have much to complain about. My problems are mostly manageable, and aging a bit is less distressing because I don't that gut-wrenching sense of going nowhere.

The odd thing is that I find myself entering into long conversations with people applying to Ph.d programs. I tell myself that I have to spread what advice I can far and wide because it's part of what one does when gets lucky. But I also feel like I'm actively seeking moments to relive the agony of those weeks, in order to avoid lapsing into smugness.

I used to watch the Ph.D students with this knot in my stomach that was two parts envy and one part resentment. And what all of them seemed to share, despite occasional existential crisis, was at the least the knowledge that they were accepted and had a professional home for the next few years. It was such a contrast to what I and some of my MA compatriots felt that I couldn't conceive of ever having that peace of mind.

The strange thing is, having pierced the veil, I find that the peace of mind is both true and not true. There is no endpoint yet. We're only over the first hurdle. But that first hurdle even after one has cleared it is so very high. And as much as I enjoy having done just that, I feel vaguely guilty, not for having cleared it, but for so happily leaving behind that feeling of uncertainty.

So I talk and I offer advice, and cringe at my own eagerness, because I know, and at the same time I wish I could forget.