School ended quietly, and I fell into the familiar summerly pattern of working days and outside nights. I forgot that August would bring a flat-topped cap and tassels hanging in my graduated face. And when I remembered, it all felt so dim and gaunt.
I'm a student. I don't know if I've ever really said that--
I have written a lot about my university experience, about how it has been the very thing that filled the gaping hell it erected. I've written of professors and classmates and the things I've learned and built, but I've never really told you how much of a student I am. I love school. I am a student. Learning is what I'm good at. Being curious is my skill. Creating is what I want. Sitting in classes with brilliant minds and kindred spirits, talking about art and literature and performance and humans, writing about the things I really care about--it's the best thing I have ever heard of. If they'd let me, I would have triple-majored, or quadruple. I could have been a psychologist, a neuroscientist, a chef, a graphic designer, a museum loiterer. I would have spent decades here, learning about the things of the world, of other worlds, of self.
So the end of my student-hood (at least for now), well, it has seemed deathly to me. So dim, and like I said, gaunt. We students need swirling poetries and colors to paint our eyes wide. We need discoveries (to us) and beliefs. We need rebirth.
And so, I can't tell you what I will be when I grow up. There are too many options. I have so many interests and inclinations, and I hate to toot my own horn, but so many talents too (toot, toot). I'm not sure how to put all of my self to good use yet. But I will do a lot of things. I will write, teach, paint, travel, read, dance, love, testify. I plan to study all of the things I want to study, with or without awarded degrees.
I will recreate myself over and over, reteach the things I love, remake previous catastrophes, revive my mind.
I will resurrect dedication and occasional frenzy.
I am a renaissance woman.