In one of the more anticlimactic moments of my master's program, I have received the email informing me that my MFA in creative writing has been granted. The diploma to follow shortly by mail.
That's it. I'm done. Really done. I've survived.
And now for others that have "survived": a great humorous vid that I've been forwarded (thanks MonkeyLOLogist). This will likely be funnier for those who watch Mythbusters, but should provide a special type of glee for all geeks.
I decided not to walk during the summer commencement ceremony. And maybe it would have been more momentous if I had. Instead, on that day, I chose to do something more meaningful: I had coffee with my advisor and brunch with other fiction program students. I walked at my undergrad commencement and that was momentous -- then again it was a more meaningful ceremony for me. There were less than 700 students in my graduating class. We had our names called individually, we walked across the stage, shook the university president's hand, and got our diplomas. Here, at a large, state university, lumped in among thousands of undergrads and sundry grad students getting their degrees, I didn't feel like the pomp was worth the circumstances.
Yes, I made a pun. Forgive me.
Instead, I received word of my degree completion while sitting at my computer, wearing gymshorts and a t-shirt, fighting off yet another heat wave.
But isn't this just exemplary of the writer's life? Here, solitary, at the desk, at the computer, doing the writing until the writing can be done no more. The friends, the cheers, the drinks and the toasts will come later. For now, it's back to work.