The Beginning of the End

Almost 30 books, 33 pages, 12, 111 words and countless cups of tea later, my dissertation hell is over.

I write this sat at the Blue 1 computer cluster of John Rylands University Library, having just finalised and printed my dissertation. Thats right, that thing that I’ve been moaning about for the last four weeks. It’s finished. Complete. Printed. What I feel now though is not the sense of elation that I was expecting, more a feeling of dread, knowing that there is nothing I can do now.

I am of course relieved. This thing has been on my mind so much I have been dreaming about it. I have become involved in what can only be described as a complicated relationship with John Rylands Library and I haven’t been able to watch a single episode of Eastender’s without feeling guilty about it. But the thing I look forward to the most is having a conversation that isn’t about it. For the last few weeks, I’d say 8 out of 10 of my conversations with other people have begun, “Hi, hows your work going?” Well now I can just shout “Finished!” in their faces and run away laughing.

I think though that my sense of dread is not just a matter of no turning back, but also of all the things that are looming now that it’s finished and I can longer use it as an excuse to put off my life. Job applications, Fuse stuff, holiday stuff, other modules. It just doesn’t stop.

Matters have been made slightly worse by my recent ‘I-dont-know-what-to-do-with-my-life’ panic. But what about media?! I hear you cry. Well, it’s not that I’ve suddenly decided that’s not what I want to do, it’s simply that other options have come to light. My mum for some time now has tried to pursuade me to be a teacher, but I’ve always dismissed her wishes, as have most people I have come across throughout life. Teaching apparently,aint as good a job as you’d think. The thingis, I love kids. For the three years I’ve spent at uni, I’ve had a job as a Student Ambassador, working with disadvantaged youths from all around Manchester. It seems though that it’s taken me three years to realise that I really do rather enjoy working with these kids, and making a difference to their lives. Now I am left with a dilema. Keep on trying to get a job in the media, or turn my back on 7 years of hard work and try something new? The conclusion I came to last night whilst fretting over this, is to simply do both, and whichever one means I dont have to spend the next year at home, wins.

Where I’ll be come June and next year will have to wait however. For now, my priority is finishing my degree. Only one more essay and two more exams to go. By 27th May it’ll all be over. I dont know if this makes me happy or sad. Whilst I am totally fed up of being a student, living in what is almost certainly squalor, having no money, hours spent in the library, the ‘real world’ is just far too scary.

Urgh. I’m going for a brew.

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