Same Shit, Different Title

Shit, man, I don't know what happened. It's been over two years, plus a good month for bonus.

The last two years haven't been much more exciting than the previous 40, except in small, concentrated bursts.

I defended the Big D on July 3, 2013. It didn't escape anyone's attention that the next day was American Independence Day.

What does one say when they finish something like that? There's not much TO say, really. It's done. It's over. Do the next thing. What is the next thing? My standard answer to everyone who asks is, "Same Shit, Different Title". It covers many possibilities. I work on another study, another paper with a different title, but really it's the exact same shit I've been doing for years. I can use the title 'Dr.', but I'm still the same little shit.

There are a number of pictures from that day and that evening's post-(successful)-defence party, and I have the exact same expression in all of them. My smile looks like I glued my face into that expression. Not that it was a fake smile, I mean, I was happy and everything, but it's the smile of a woman who is 352% exhausted, has had maybe 2 hours of sleep in the last 36, and is going to fall over as soon as possible.

A few months later, my parents and big sister came to my commencement and took lots of terrible pictures of me wearing a robe and a hood. And then Husband met us for dinner at one of my favourite little restaurants and I had a margarita and... something with fried plantains and guacamole. It was a good day.

So now I go on. I work. I write. I research. (I still work for Lady S, which is altogether pleasant and comfortable). I knit. I read.

That has been one good thing that's come out of finishing the Big D — I started reading again, for pleasure. Mindless, fun stuff that isn't (mostly) young adult, for a change. I'm over on Goodreads, but don't expect anything too deep or insightful there.

But really, I'm just trying to get on with life. Find my happy. Do the things I like to do, and find a way to get out of the things I don't enjoy anymore. Make a little bit of money. Play a little more music. Take more pictures. Hug a kitty. Make (and keep) good friends. Stop allowing the less-than-good ones to drag me down. Enjoy the occasional odd, private, older-man crushes. Drink more red wine.

Just a little more.

Same shit, different title.