Yesterday, I handed in the final assignment due for the final course of my master’s program. I’m officially done. By Friday, I should know how I did and what my final grades are going to be. Unlike my undergrad, I absolutely kicked arse in this program.
On Thursday, I will attend commencement. I’ve watched the medical school commencement as part of the mar/comm team at work for several years, waiting for my own big day, and it’s finally here! Hopefully, the weather will be OK since it’s outside because apparently there are a lot of engineers.
One day, I am going to tabulate all the words I’ve written. Clearly, it’s been a lot. This program was very research and writing intensive, as opposed to being focused on testing. I couldn’t have been more lucky. I hate testing, passionately. If I would have had to take the GRE, I wouldn’t have made it. I would have been passed over, not considered grad school material. Meanwhile, I’ve gone and attained a 3.98 GPA. Take that! standardized test of doom!
There will be the unavoidable CAPM certification for which I will take a boot camp course and learn sneaky tricks to outsmart the test. And then, not sure. Feels good to just catch my breath. At the same time, feels like the rug has been pulled from under my feet. There is a certain panic and malaise to completing something like this. Where do I go? What do I do? At my age, I don’t have the time I had when I graduated from my undergrad college. I had better eat a lot of kale and get sleep, which seem to be the key to longevity.
Several times over the past five years, I’ve wanted to share what I’ve been learning. However, with so much writing needed for class, I never seemed to have enough energy left over for this poor blog. The row house blog is a hot mess. My actual row house is falling apart. Everything had been put on hold.
I am reluctant to dive right back in; going to take a moment to breathe and process what I’ve really learned over the past few years during the program. Not just the methodology, which I’ve got a good grasp on, but the bigger, deeper effect it’s had on who I am. I am not the same. I am restless. I am seeking. But first, perhaps a nap, and a trip to Colonial Williamsburg.