Holy crap! My counter just said that there are thirty people on-line! Is that possible? I'm not that popular. Maybe the thing is broken...
Pessimistic? Not at all. I'm realistic. Well, at least about this I am. You may recall the fantasy/reality entry I posted on June 9th.
Realistically-speaking, today has been a productive day. I got up early (Boo-urns to getting up at a quarter to eight on any day, let alone my birthday!) to register for classes for the Fall/Winter term. I got into every one for which I tried to register:
- The New Woman (English Seminar - 1st semester);
- Old English Language and Literature;
- Advanced Italian;
- Alienation, Protest & Rebellion in Modern Europe (it's a literature course featuring the likes of Dostoevsky and Camus that's supposed to be taught by the son of the great American literary critic Edmund Wilson and feminist writer Mary McCarthy [according to this article--written by the controversial Katie Roiphe--Nora Ephron recently wrote a play about McCarthy and Lillian Hellman]);
- Telling and Re-telling: Medieval Narratives from the British Isles (English seminar - 2nd semester); and
- my thesis.
I get to study my favourite literary periods, which are--very broadly--the pre-Renaissance, and Modernism/Post-Modernism. I am so excited about the coming academic year.
I know I sound like such a nerd, but--realistically--much of my excitement is due not to the classes I'm taking (though I'm sure I'll enjoy them all!), but to the fact that this year is my last. I'm excited because I'm going to be able to get on with my life. I'm excited because I've finally decided where I want to be in September 2004.
The uncertainty--wondering if, in September 2004, I should be embarking on post-graduate studies, or diving into the world of work, or seeing the world--had plagued me earlier this year. I recall likening myself to the ass of Buridan, paralized with indecision between equally appealing courses. The not knowing, I dare say, contributed greatly to my bout of depression. Through it all--the depression, the diagnosis, the medication (yeah, I was on anti-depressants for a bit back there, but I was too scared to write about it here until now--but I'll save that conversation for later this week), the recovery--nothing change; no clarity came. Until today.
A moment of lucidity. In it--I just knew. I hadn't even been thinking about my post-grad plans. A plan just came. And I'm content with it. I trust my intuition.
This plan--to visit Montreal before moving on to traipse around the United Kingdom and then, upon returning home, to take a year off to work and to write--I will put into action as soon as I get my Dow Chemical Canada scholarship reimbursement next summer. Will I eventually get to that Masters degree? I don't know. And I'm not too concerned with trying to discern that part of my future right now.
I know what I'm supposed to do in my more immediate future. And it just feels right.
A chance for rebirth seen on the anniversary of my first appearance.
Thank you to all of you who sent me special wishes today.