This is the slip I got on Monday when I handed my final essay in. Finishing university is a fuzzy experience for me - while I’ve finished all of my studies, I still have an anthology to make, the embarrassing and way-too-public business of graduating (assuming I do graduate), and other things to wrap up here in York. I don’t have the tearful goodbyes - I don’t really know anyone here - but I sort of feel done-and-yet-not-done. It’s weird.
Having said this, I’ve been doing other things. I’ve started writing with Arden. I wrote a thing about The Cabin in the Woods for BWDR that may or may not see the light of day. I’ve been playing a lot of Assassin’s Creed. I finished reading Fifty Shades of Grey. I applied for a few jobs. I’m still learning when it comes to focusing on my interests, but where procrastination would have previously led to capitulation and work on an essay or reading a paper, now I end up doing things that are considerably more enriching.
I don’t know. This is a funny, transitional period. I’m still working things out. But we’ll see. I can feel myself shifting a little, and I’m not sure I understand how it’s happening, or who I’m becoming yet. And that’s probably allowed. I feel like a lot of twenty-somethings get very hung up on identity, and the fact that once you leave school no-one steps up and hands you one - all of a sudden you have to decide this stuff for yourself. I think I might just let it happen, and not think too hard about it. I have things that’ll happen to me over the next few months - I’m not sure what they’ll be, but they’ll be important nevertheless.
Blank slate time. Spooky stuff.