It’s 75 degrees outside, the sky is blue, birds are chirping. Spring is here (summer, nearly) and I am at work in the FAC, busily putting appointments into the system which will then, inevitably, drop them. There are no windows in the Undergraduate Writing Center. On days like today, that seems like an immensely cruel architectural decision.I’ve been totally swamped since my last update. I finished my thesis and presented it at the Plan II Thesis Symposium, which was a sort of harrowing experience preceded by anxious dreams and followed by a lot of sleep. Happily, my thesis adviser informed me last week that I only need to do as much more work on the thing as I want to “or have time for.” He told me that he knew I had other responsibilities, “and should probably have some semblance of a social life.”
Anyway, that has left me free to peruse the meager internship offerings available to a graduating senior who only has a few months to work during the worst job market in years, if not decades. I’ll be moving to Germany next year as the recipient of a DAAD grant to study international relations, so I need to figure out what I’ll be doing between now and then. Here is my fantasy summer: Drive a UHaul to NYC with my friends, stopping at every restaurant along the way that I’ve entered on my fancy Google Map. Lay in bed all summer. Magically become fluent in Arabic. Take a big trip. Somehow make a bunch of money. Man, wouldn’t it be nice?
In real life this will almost certainly not be the case. But a girl’s gotta dream, right? And not the pre-symposium anxiety dreams of yore, although I have enough of those about graduation. I trip on my robes. I close my eyes during the photo. Maybe I even forget to get the robes, and my family has spent all that time and money schlepping down here for nothing. Nothing! Maybe I fail Plan II Physics and can’t graduate at all! I only have six weeks to go and yet I am still feeling beset by anxiety and inadequacy. On the flip side, maybe in six weeks all that will mysteriously evaporate, and I will leave behind my inner 12-year-old in Austin and make The Big Move. Hmmph. As if.