I Did It!


It is done.

This, my first semester of graduate school, is hereby finished.

FINISHED!

I sent in two papers today.

One this morning before heading out the door to do the deal with my person up at Tart to Tart in the Inner Sunset.

The other.

About an hour ago.

I cannot believe it.

I am finished with the semester.

And.

Free to move about the country.

Or.

The world.

As the case may be.

And the case, my suitcase, is packed.

All is good.

All is ready.

My passport in my wallet, my bags packed, my toiletries in the little clear plastic flight bag–the same one I bought at Sephora a little over three years ago when I decided to move to Paris.

I am a little incredulous how much stuff I got into my carry on.

My friend reports that he is a clothes horse, ah, yeah, and has to check a bag.

Bahahaha.

Yeah.

I don’t travel like that.

In fact.

I was feeling that my second carry on was too big and bulky and I said, fuck it, I’m just going to carry my suitcase and my purse.

I figure that’s enough.

I have enough.

I am enough.

I reiterated to myself as I went about my day getting ready to do all the things that needed to be done.

Methodical, with a little bit of anxiety about getting it all in, but a surety that it would be done.

That no matter what I would have it done.

Maybe I wouldn’t get as much sleep as I wanted.

But.

My brain, the inflater of all things bad, never the good, always the bad, which should be a tip off, told me quite bold and loud that I would not have enough time to do my final psychodynamics paper and I should just put it off until I got back from Paris.

I was like.

Are you serious.

Oh.

Fuck.

You are!

Well.

That’s an option.

I told my brain and then just started doing all the things that needed to be done.

I had some housekeeping, some emails, and some laundry to do this morning, plus the general housekeeping of my brain and the sweeping out of my heart any cobwebs from the night before.

I put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed.

I love to come home to a freshly made bed.

Such a small kindness to do for myself.

I am always grateful for my fresh made bed after a bit of travel.

Then, the breakfast, the coffee, the writing.

I gathered up my things and got my scooter ready.

Grateful for a break in the rain so that I could ride to 7th and Irving.

I parked and went to Tart to Tart.

I did some reading, some checking in, some inventory, some down loading of my previous week.

I got a lovely birthday card from my person and loads of perspective.

We talked about attraction rather than promotion.

And.

Paris.

She lived there once as well.

It was grand to compare notes.

Then she went her way and I made a few phone calls and posted a travel alert on my ATM card so that there would be no holds on it when I travel.

I went to the hardware store and bought a small padlock for my scooter basket.

I went to do the deal at 1p.m.

Then.

A late lunch at La Honda Mexican grill.

Just because I don’t eat flour doesn’t mean I can’t get my Mexican food on–a nice plate of carnitas, beans and rice, and a very happy and full lady went off to the nail salon.

A mani/pedi and eyebrow wax later.

I left the Inner Sunset after a brief freak out where I thought I had lost the keys to my scooter.

A totally odd.

(Is it odd or is it God?)

And very surreal experience that I will share with you privately should you really want to know, but suffice to say, it was beyond bizarre where my keys showed up.

I did find them.

I figured that twenty minutes was a moment of total surrender and that they would show up when I was supposed to be on my scooter riding it home.

Which is what happened.

But.

I have to say it was such a spooky little experience that I decided to take the park home instead of Lincoln–it’s a much slower speed limit and much less traffic–and just get off the scooter and park it and lock it and cover it up.

I won’t be riding it for a week.

At least.

I got home and talked to my crazy brain about how to tackle the rest of the day.

I did a little grocery shopping.

I pulled out my carry on.

I made dinner.

And I put up a bunch of food into the freezer so I won’t have to cook when I get back from the trip.  I will have food prepped and ready to just pull out of the freezer and take to work.

Then I took out the notebook and the reader and I opened my laptop.

My brain clamored pretty loud.

Just put off the damn paper, you don’t know what you’re going to write about.

And.

I didn’t.

Even though.

It turns out.

I did know.

I somehow always do.

That’s the miracle of it.

The words are there.

It’s the sitting down and the opening up of myself to what is happening.

And voila!

Less than an hour and a half later I had the paper written.

And may I say.

It was a good paper.

A really good paper.

I was happily surprise.

I wrote well, I understood what I was writing on and I am also aware that I learned while I was writing the paper, which is always the main deal for me.

In the experience of doing the final paper, I learned more.

This is a mark of a good teacher for me and also that I am a good student.

“You are an amazing student,” she said to me, after I had described a paper I had written for another class and the response to it.

“You are an academic, you may really want to think about going for the PhD.”

This has come up a few times.

And yes.

It is an ego feeding proposition.

And.

It may also be something that I pursue.

Today.

Right now?

No.

Right now.

I am fucking done!

I did it!

My first semester of graduate school finished.

I am over the moon and ready to land on the other side of the world.

Paris, France to be exact.

I will be seeing you soon, ma cherie.

My sweet City of Lights.

I bid you adieu and bonne nuit.

For tomorrow I fly to you once again.

I am.

The luckiest girl.

In the world.

I really am.

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