The life of an academic is a strange one in terms of time: four months of full throttle and then you go sailing off the precipice of finals week into an abyss where you must finally confront the stacks of papers you have been putting off organizing, the mountain of laundry that has been gathering in the corners, and of course the bathroom, which probably had its last good cleaning at the beginning of the semester. But most daunting to negotiate is the sudden lack of stimulation. All the seminar papers are completed, student essays read and grades posted... and there you sit, in a silent house, contemplating how to negotiate the break in the action.
I think that breaks are really important in terms of regrouping and letting the deluge of information you've just processed over the course of the semester sink in and become knowledge. But they also have this weird alienating quality: left to one's own devices for several weeks, the mind has a way of forgetting exactly why one has chosen this strange and difficult path. I've heard more seasoned academics say that experience makes these transitions easier to deal with as one becomes more adept at self-regulating one's time. I can only hope that they are right, since I've always been pretty lousy at keeping to deadlines, especially ones that I set for myself.
Spending three weeks away from home is also pretty disorienting, as I've come to find out. When I got back from DMAC, I didn't unpack my suitcase for at least a week and left all my toiletries in the travel case for a week after that. Even though I was back, I still felt somewhat transient... my extended absence compounded with the fact that the lease on this place is up in a few short weeks made settling back into my "home life" pretty difficult. While I was away, I came to think of returning to Syracuse as returning to "real life," which, as I gather, is something that many who choose to attend graduate school are desperate to avoid at all costs. I never thought of myself as one of these people, but my experiences this summer may prove to mitigate that self-opinion. I'm still adjusting to being back in my "real life." Starting summer teaching has helped this along considerably, and for that I am grateful, particularly because my students are enthusiastic and bright. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least somewhat apprehensive about beginning my second year here; no longer a green first-year, I won't have the benefit of newbie status to fall back on if and when I screw up. I know that I can and will rise to the challenge, but it is still intimidating. The stakes are higher. But hopefully, so will be the rewards.
I was talking to someone the other day, having the quintessential discussion about how when you're a little kid, all you want to do is grow up so that no one can tell you what to do, then you do grow up and not only do people still tell you what to do, but you also learn how hard it is to take care of youself. The gravity of adulthood has been hitting me hard lately as all around me I've been witnessing peers getting married, having children, buying homes, trading in their college cars for more reliable vehicles. Buying strollers and investing in life insurance. Thus far, I've been pretty successful in avoiding all of those major life events, but the years are not passing any slower and I know I'll be facing them (or the reality of their absence) in the not-so-distant future.
Real choices. Real life. I can only hope that my training, academic and otherwise, has prepared me to face what is to come with courage and integrity. That's what I'm trying for, anyway. I have a lot to do this year, and it's coming whether or not I'm ready.
So I'd better be ready. The goal is to take on the hurdles with open eyes, an open mind, and most importantly, an open heart.
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