Writing to let go.

Work is picking up. I'm thankful for that. I think I'm beginning to enjoy myself. The real work will kick in when I get back. For real. It's going to be me, papers, in my cubicle, trying to coming up with clear, elegant strategies. I can't wait.

And then there's the work-trip. Everything's firmed up- flights, hotels. I think I will learn a lot. In any case, will be thankful to be seeing a new city, a new culture. And to attend the event of course. It's exciting, scary and stressful.

"It's not boredom, I feel adrift." I hear you. I know the feeling. To stand at the end of 4 years of studying-summer break cycles and not know what the hell to do with yourself. Some people might believe I don't know that feeling-- because my job started 5 days after the end of my last exam. But I do. Because this isn't my dream job. I don't really have a "dream job". This was a right-time, right-place sort of thing. So, I know how it feels like, to be leaving school after so long and not really know what to do with the rest of your life, because I'm there too. I'll light a candle for you, in Milan's Duomo.

Okay fine.

This post is actually about 4 June. It felt too far away when I walked out of my last exam. I wanted it to come now, so I could know and be done with it. And now it's finally coming.

Don't really talk to much of the cohort. So I don't know how everyone's feeling. I don't know how to feel about it. I've always been nervous about results. For essays, for semesters. I hope and worry and fantasize. Standard reactions.

I want first class honours. I have never wanted any other type of honours. I have worked for 4 years (baring some gaps...) for this. Yes, I fucked up in Year 3. But I came back in Year 4. And I had the best honours thesis experience than I could have hoped for, even in December last year. If I don't get it, I don't know how I will react.

Things not to say:
- "Who cares, you already got a job!"
- "This doesn't even matter, it never really did."

Maybe I'll come to realise one day that it doesn't; people tell me that's a possibility. But I doubt it. Because I know myself a little bit better. If I don't get it, I'll still crease my brows a little, still taste a little bitter tint, still brood a little when I am in a quiet, peaceful place. It matters to me now, and it probably always will. If you know me, you know why.

I will be in Santorini when I find out. A beautiful place, I've been reading.

I am excited to be in Europe again, really. My heart can fit so many contrasting emotions without bursting... Venice again and Athens. Milan, a city I'm half-fearing and half-attracted to from afar. Dubrovnik, supposedly heaven on earth.

So, my dear (handful of) readers, next post will be explosive, either way.