"O Brave New World..."

A while back my lovely friend Laura wrote a love letter to her dissertation on her blog. It is too funny and wonderful not to share, and for a long time, I've been meaning to post it as part of an entry I was developing in my head. Today, however, I am throwing that planned entry out; although it is still relevant, it's not what I want to be sharing with the world today - not on the day when I am officially ABD.

ABD is grad school speak for "All But Dissertation." It means someone has all the holes punched on her ticket out of grad school except for the big one - the dissertation defense. You have to love grad school. You make it through the rigors of course work, you qualify to be a Ph.D. candidate in your department, you go through the misery of said department's preferred form of comprehensive exam torture, you think of a book-length project that will contribute to your field, and now the *only* thing you have to do you have to do is write that book. Grad school is the Faerie Queene.

The road to my prospectus meeting was not easy. I was terrified to sit in a room with my committee again. To say I've been a wreck these past few weeks would be an understatement. But then yesterday, something changed. To give you some context, I believe in signs. You can't put a girl through 18 years of parochial school and expect her not to believe in signs. Yesterday, I went to the bathroom in the basement of the English building. My office has recently been relocated to the basement, and I have to say, the bathroom graffiti is so much more entertaining in the basement than it was on the fourth floor. Really, I could write a whole entry on the bathroom graffiti culture of the English-Philosophy Building. So I sit down in my stall yesterday, and there, right at my eye level, written, not in smearing, pencil cursive, but in bold, permanent marker capitals was this: EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY IN THE END. IF IT'S NOT OKAY, IT'S NOT THE END. It took my breath away. You see, a few years ago, Mary gave me a magnet with that saying written on it. She said, "I saw it and just knew it had to be the graduate school motto." And here was this bold reminder of the motto - the exact words I needed to hear - just when I needed to hear them the most. I went about my day teaching, going to the gym, and fixing dinner. After dinner, I sat down at the kitchen table with my trusty Norton Complete Works and read The Tempest one last time. Suddenly, it felt like someone had flipped a switch. For the first time in a very long time, I really did believe things were going to be okay. I felt confident in myself and proud of my work. I no longer had to consciously remind myself to breath. I was like getting to know peace all over again.

I tended to relate metaphors of childbirth to the comps process. And now, basking in the ABD-ness of today, I think I feel what a new mother must feel. This is *my* baby. All this hoping and thinking and finally it's here. I know our journey together won't be easy. I know there will be days when it will make me feel incredibly frustrated, when I'll want to put it in time out, when I'll fear I am not doing the best I can do to nurture it, and when I'll want to look at it crosswise and scream, "Don't you understand I need *me* time?" But for tonight, I am so utterly in love with it. I dream about it's future, about all the things it can be. I marvel at all its parts and realize how it so perfectly synthesizes everything I love. I can see how everything in my life has led me to this "child," and I want to do everything I can to help it grow up well. I know that we are now a team, and I feel so, so blessed that we have each other.

A pen and ink illustration of The Tempest, which is the focus of my dissertation. I bought it at the Globe in London. The artist is Elizabeth E. Schuch, and you can find her etsy shop here. Is one allowed to buy herself ABD presents?