It may be utopic of me to believe I could once regain the post-output I had some time ago, while I was basically a studying bum, now that I’ve picked up scheduled work. But at least I can tell the tale of how I got here.
On May 8th, 2009, I handed in my diploma thesis. After pushing back this date almost indefinitely, due to lacking participants and other uncalled-for obstacles, I could finally get rid of it. At that point I wanted nothing more than to just put it behind me. After all, I had started working in that project in September of 2007, for crying out loud. And I had never experienced a time more stressful than the one spent on writing the damn thing. It would never be good enough, it could always be improved. But it was just the diploma thesis, for chrissake, not the new essay on nuclear physics up for the nobel prize. Some people just put a questionnaire online, get plenty of participants in little time, write out the results and voila! Done in six months. I am not bitter. Just exhausted. Which would explain why I wanted to make a big whoop out of the day I would finally be done. Written, corrected, formated, printed, handed in. Time to party. I had planned a big gathering on the Rhine bank, ballermann-style, with buckets of alcohol and a general sense of freedom. Instead, we got blocked by a marathon surrounding my apartment (literally) and very iffy weather. I managed to mix some sangria anyway and brought along the long straws, but instead of a debauchery it turned into a couple’s evening. With hors-d’oevres. And half of the people there too concerned with their own problems to be in a party mood. But it was nice anyway. We played a finnish game with wooden sticks in the dark and got to witness a drunken emo kid piss right in the middle of the lawn.
The rest of May and June was spent finishing my internship at the university clinic, in neuropsychology, learning for my upcoming exam and attending job interviews for the therapist-apprenticeship. The internship was ok, it looked good on my resumé, it filled up my time usefully and helped me realize that this specific field was too boring for me to consider making a career out of it (sorry). I would like to say that I learned a lot from it – but I didn’t. Learning for my last test was a pain, though, because I had already tried and failed at the subject. It’s never easy going in to something like this and trying to be convincing when you know you’ll never work in that field (educational psychology), but it sure doesn’t help to fear failing again and possibly being expelled AT YOUR LAST-EVER EXAM. On the one hand it was more of a formality – it was my last-ever exam, wouldn’t they let me pass, even with a 4.0? – on the other hand: what if I didn’t pass?! Long story short: I passed. Not with flying colors, mind you, but who cared because at that point: I’M DONE! I HAVE A DIPLOMA! I FINISHED MY STUDIES! Woohoo! I had arranged for The BF to come pick me up with cocktails from the exam. The look on the face of the next student was priceless. Still, it was a very weird feeling. I hadn’t been to courses for like two years, but now I was officially done with my studys. I had planned to walk around campus and take pictures of the different important places, but they were setting up for a festival in the main court, so everything was more or less blocked. Later in the summer, when I went to visit my old high-school (talk about a weird feeling!), I decided it was nicer to keep these images in my head and maybe be surprised later than to keep everything on tape. Besides, it already looked nothing like when I started out here in 2003. Six years. Time flies.
[To be continued]