I've finally got all my tests and papers back. My M.A. is complete. I probably should feel happy about it, or at least a bit more relaxed.
It finally begun sinking last night, as I finished updating the iTunes library. I closed it and then turned - there was nothing I had to do, no special reason to check the university's website, no deadline in which to read or write a paper. That is, one that was not of my own making and design.
I went back to school to escape the imposing banality of work, the repeating made-up tasks and the bite of dull-teethed routines; it was my purpose to invigorate those brain cells that survived the gaping mouth of an existence I was taught both to loathe and admire. I believe I was successful, at least in part.
The point now is to find the next challenge, to give my life the definition and direction it requires and through it meaning.
I woke up this morning with two lines from two distinct songs playing in my head. First, there was Feist's rendition of "Lover's Spit", in particular the opening line "All these people drinking lover's spit". The second was a part of the chorus for Bright Eyes' "If the Brakeman Turns My Way" - a repeating "moving out". Reading both these songs' lyrics now, I find they share a certain degree of uncertainty and expectation for the coming future, probably in hope of a better one.