I tend to stress. Not that it's unjustified - it's for stuff that matters. Milestones, the start of grand adventures, high-stakes matches, taking that first step into the great unknown... ya know, the stuff that a little stress would be expected. So I work non-stop, don't sleep, and start to stress-bake. The people around me really benefit from my stress.
Luckily, my friends aren't above an impromptu, late-night pizza party in the geo-corner.
It turns out, the things that stress me out the most are the ones where, ultimately, the decision is out of my hands.
Which, in the case of grad school, means whether or not I get the green light to defend my thesis and graduate. The goal of the past 20 months of my life, the decision that either means I'm basically done or I really really fucked up and never get to leave.
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After a couple people asking if I had pink eye or commenting that I looked tired, I started taking pictures of my eyes at the end of the day. The end result is... well, I get why they were asking.
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I was nervous and stressed enough that I fell back onto my pre-rifle match relaxation drill, complete with blaring 'Riot' by Three Days Grace on repeat (yes, it's an odd choice, but I spent 6 years training my heart rate to slow down when I hear it. 14-year-old Amy had a sick sense of humour. Actually, 26-year-old Amy also has a sick sense of humour...).
So that was Friday.
Luckily, I got the green light.
That's right, I get to graduate!
My defence is 24 June at 16:30. Feel free to come and learn all about frozen clay and look at pictures of samples that look like giant turds.
It took about 3 hours, 4 beers, and a couple games of darts, but it finally set in. I'm graduating!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
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