Beginning to say goodbye…
So, I returned most of my checked-out books to the Cornell library last week.
For those of you who haven’t written a dissertation, I can’t really explain how big a deal this is: some of these books have sat on my shelves for upwards of three years, thanks to Cornell’s six-month checkout term for graduate students and online renewal system, and I’d really grown to think of them as mine in a certain sense. There was a definite sense of saying goodbye as I lugged 110 books in milk crates to the library, but as I emptied the last one I didn’t have the feeling of closure that I expected.
See, up until a few months ago I thought that I’d defend my dissertation, go to graduation, then spend a few days in a flurry of activity as I packed up my Ithaca life and headed for the horizon. Recently, however, it’s begun to dawn on me that my transition from graduate school to “what comes next” isn’t going to happen in anything remotely resembling a clean break. Instead, I’m looking forward to a several-month-long smear from one life into another, marked by a series of transitory steps and a whole lot of miscellaneous debris.
Initially, I’d hoped to get my defense out of the way by Cornell’s May commencement, so that the ceremony would mark the official end of my time there. Instead, my defense is set for July 26th, and while I’ll still put on the gown and walk at the May ceremony, it won’t quite be the same. Originally, the hope was that I’d have defended by the end of May so that the trip to Eduador and the Galapagos would give me a feeling of distance from my dissertation and graduate student life in general, but now I’m in a position where I’ll have to come back and spend another few weeks working on dissertation revisions.
There’s also the matter of where I’m living. When I drove down to DC last week I realized that I would only be in Ithaca three more times: once for commencement, once in June to discuss the final dissertation draft with Ron, and once for the actual defense at the end of July. I’ll spend most of the rest of the time at Jenny’s place in Brooklyn, until we move down to DC sometime in mid-July (provided we find a place by then, which is a whole other topic). Again, no real moment of closure, just a series of transitions.
As for what I’ll be doing, I’ve got a bunch of freelance work lined up from when I didn’t know if I’d have a job or need to start building a freelance career – now I won’t need the work as badly, but I’ve already committed to the projects (plus I know I’ll enjoy the programming and design work). It’s strange – I’ll probably have the final dissertation draft in by the time I move down to DC, but I’ll still be doing freelance stuff after the move. Even more, I’ll move to DC only to then have to return to Ithaca for my defense and last-minute fixes, then rushing right back to DC to start at George Mason on August 1.
I’m really not complaining, honest – I’m incredibly lucky to be in the situation in which I find myself, and I know it. I’ve got a job lined up, I’ve got freelance work to tide me over until then, the end of graduate school is within reach, I’ve got an amazing girlfriend who loves me enough to move to a different city and start a new life with me.
It all just feels strangely anticlimactic.
May 12th, 2004 at 11:36 am
I think graduate school is full of those moments. I haven’t felt any sense of finality since I packed my car the night before graduation from undergrad and set my headlights west. Even the beginnings of the semesters seem to blend in with the end of the breaks.
Good luck with all of your transitions!
May 12th, 2004 at 10:30 pm
Congratulations, Josh. I’m not sure you’d remember me, but we met a couple of times here and there, most recently at SHOT in Atlanta. I am finishing up my coursework this summer, so I still have some time before I finish up. Good luck in DC, and hope to see you more often up at Hopkins.
May 14th, 2004 at 8:46 pm
Oh, were life always a storybook with clearly deliniated acts! It makes me mad that this is not the case. So what do I do? Play the right music. That makes it seem movie-like, even when it isn’t.
May 15th, 2004 at 9:01 pm
Many years ago, far longer than I care to admit I actually watched this last library book ritual take place. It was father john, John Staudenmeir (spelling) the current editor of Technology & Culture, returning his last book to the Van Pelt library at Penn while I was an undergraduate. What I remember best is feeling that I was watching something important in someone else’s life, and that I really shouldn’t be there. There was something intimate about it, as well as sad since the librarian to whom Father John—he’s a jesuit priest [that may not be the technically correct term and I mean disprespect]—admitted or confessed that this was his final return didn’t seem to realize what Father John was going on about as he slid the book into the return slot. Mind you, I have no such memory of returning my last book; I do recall after my defense going down to my advisor’s office and calling my father at work to tell him I had passed. And I remember I was quite pleased to tell him that.