It is the last day of my Dr. Smith classes. I have picked up my cap, gown, and graduation tickets. It’s my last time logging into campus computers and writing an LJ entry from them. It’s the last etc etc etc.

I guess this is all starting to feel real now, aside from the fact that I still have to finish my Plath/Poetry journals, and that the essays for Dr. Smith’s finals have apparently been posted. I’m afraid to look at them because I don’t want to stress myself out too much. I have a lot of writing to do tonight.

Okay I looked. I couldn’t help myself. Two essays due by midnight on Sunday. DOES IT EVER END?

Yes, it does, on December 12. I just answered my own rhetorical question. Wonderful.

I’m looking forward to life without work and school at the same time. I’m going to miss school. Hopefully I’ll go back to grad school, take some new classes without the recycled professers who I feel I’ve learned enough from. I feel like I can’t write one more word about Plath (or Anne Sexton, for that matter) and it’s all the same garbage I’ve been writing for the last two years of upper levels.

I’m looking forward to actually SEEING Denis Pete. I never do. I saw him on Thanksgiving and then again yesterday. That’s once in a week. I hate it. And I’ll get to live at my apartment rather than just sleep there. And devour books for fun like I used to before reading was my job. And write for the paper on occasion.

La la la. Time for my last Dr. Smith class, and then an appointment with Nancy, and then home to write until my fingers fall off. Wish me luck!