Ends and beginnings

For the past three years I've been writing about war. Now, in less than a month, I'm defending my doctoral dissertation, which means I'm going through strages I didn't exactly expect, but I had heard of - strange emptiness, and fits of optimism followed by utter frustration. I suppose it's life filling up the space that was occupied by the "book". Now that book has become very concrete - I have 50 copies in a box I haven't bothered moving out of the hallway.

The past years I've had my eyes on the dress, the shoes, the party, the fundamental reward for sacrificing all my time and energy, only to realize that the defence is actually not the beginning, but actually also the end of a certain phase of my life. Now the ceremony appears as a farewell of some sort, as with my graduation I'm actually leaving the community I've been a member of. Not entirely, but in many significant aspects.

So, there are problems and "problems" that come to this. Contemplating life is one thing, and figuring out how to meet the demands of a super formal academic setting in terms of style is another. The "problem":
I don't like wearing black. I fought the idea of having to wear black shoes. Then, I realized, there are many ways to wear it. You can look like a nun- or give a new meaning to "crazy cat lady".

Cheers.