It just occurred to me that I’m supposed to be ready to graduate next year.
Yes, that’s right. Next year, at this time, I’ll be let go—to either spread my wings and fly, or to plummet to my doom.
And then to a lifetime of sitting in coffee-shops, hopelessly trying to convince chicks that being a doctor in maths is just as good as being of the sort that wear stethoscopes and run around in hospitals.
(We save lives, you know. Every friggin’ day.)
Where did time go?
I don’t feel ready for this. High school was only five years ago. I still remember it so well. I’m still living in the past. I’m not ready to grow up.
Aha.
There’s nothing like the bewilderingly cold grip of panic and the firm grip of fear to put your ass in gear.
Alexandra says,
I’m sure you’ll be fine no matter on what continent you choose to stay.
I guess this is the downside for PhDs in Europe: three years? Come on! Year 1 is pretty much just getting used to the new place, the new boss, the new subject, and year 3 is writing your thesis.
This pretty much leaves one year to do all the work.
Jonathan Weatherhead says,
yeah man I hear you! I managed to extend my stay in academia for 2 more years, but I won’t be so lucky next time… Sure I bitch about schoolwork (who doesn’t) but I like school a lot. The trouble is, we’ve been in the system too long Phil. We don’t know what else there is.
Phil’s Proof » Re: Double-U-Tee-Efff? says,
[...] friend Jon had an interesting comment to my last post. He said: Yeah man I hear you! I managed to extend my stay in academia for 2 more years, but I [...]