October 22, 2008 § 14 Comments
It isn’t what it used to be, blogging. Most of us are writing less often, and some of us aren’t writing at all, leaving our blogs to drift through the blogosphere like so much space junk. Unquestionably, the zeitgeist has shifted to other, pithier forms of virtual communication, but I also suspect that many of us are distracted by the demands of real if unnarrated lives.
Certainly, I am. I’ve entered my last year of doctoral study, which is a frenzied blur of dissertation writing, grant applications, and, in the moments between, fear. The end of the road looms, and with it a future that feels as though it will arrive both too soon and not nearly soon enough.
I’ve been told that there comes a point when you know in your bones that you’re done with grad school. I reached that point last spring, when, mired in the worst poverty I have ever known, it dawned on me that no future, no matter how uncertain, could be as unremittingly awful as that dispirited present.
Things are better now, but I have lost my patience with grad life. I’m tired of the late nights, the solitude, the disorienting lack of structure. I’m tired of having nowhere to be and no particular time to be there. I’m tired of owning one pair of jeans and five pairs of socks and of wearing the same scuffed boots I’ve worn for the last eight years. And I’m unspeakably tired of feeling as though my life hasn’t really begun.
So yes, I am done, but now the truly hard part begins: figuring out how to do something else.