I've forgotten what it's like to live without a deadline. I recently wrote this in an email and realized that this is the cause to my anxiety dreams and the feeling as if I'm forgetting something, something important.
It's funny, when I was out of school, I looked back at it with such a "you had it so good then" attitude. Yet, college is a lot like giving birth, you forget the bad stuff. I remember when I was an undergrad at the UW. I would say, "I can't wait to get a real job, no more homework." Of course, I found that real job only to find out that well, yes, it more-than-occasionally came with homework.
Yet, I can't complain right now and in fact, I am feel so thankful to this world of school and life that has somehow managed to come together for me. But I do think about what it will be like not to have a group of books on my nightstand that I must read by a certain date (and not because I need to return them to the library). Or not to have a week blocked off in my daytimer with the word "DEADLINE" in black pen.
But I'm promising myself that when I finish school, there will be one year to play and to be serious about my writing. One year to write daily on schedule, my job--to arrive to my desk and write. There will be different deadlines, ones I control. Will it feel as if this weight I carry around will be gone? Will I wake up and not have that "I must do something" feeling. I'm not sure.
These three years went by quickly and they dragged along. They opened doors and shut them in my face. They made me question everything. And still, I'm not done. Almost. But not quite. I'm thinking about it tonight as we've been discussing graduation and sending in our applications for graduation. I had planned to trade in my VW beetle for a *convertible* VW Beetle (aquarius blue). Right now, that plan is hold, especially if I decide to freestyle for a year. I've thought about waitressing (though I've never done it), I've thought about working in a bookstore (though I dislike retail). I know, I get my masters degree to work in a job where I don't need one. But it was never the reason. I didn't go back to school so I could get a job, I went back to school so I could become a better writer. It may go against why others get MFAs. But for me, I'm a writer first.
And I needed the schedule, the book lists, the one-on-one, the take-yourself-seriously-girl, the (yes, say it) deadlines, and yes, the time to write. No one could question my writing time if I was paying for it. No one can take away your education. I haven't decided against teaching at a later time, but I haven't decided against becoming a barista either. I'm undecided. I'm the voter nine months before the election reading the pamphlet, considering my options, my opportunities, my operation graduation, my open book surgery.
I guess we'll have to stay up late to see how this works out, to the end of the movie where I ride off into the sunset, if there is a sunset, a horse, or a cowgirl with a map.
