Revolutionary Rants

The day I handed in my Masters dissertation in York it was pouring with rain, non-stop. The opposite of today, here and now it is beautiful crisp sunshine, then our feet were soaked wet and I had to buy a new winter coat so cold had it become since we left Huddersfield that morning by train.

It all seemed to reflect my mood, as I cried, confused and highly anxious in the upstairs of Cafe Nero. It was so different from the hope and excited twisting in my stomach that I had felt on handing in my BA dissertation. I knew that was good, I knew I had loved writing it, researching it and felt passionate about every word. My whole MA felt flat in comparison and my dissertation was the first piece of academic work I had to force myself through since I was studying for my Junior Cert.

I wasn’t sure why I was so upset back then in Nero. I was tired and it all felt like an utter anticlimax, of course, and I had just gone through a year in Reading a place I didn’t like and where I hadn’t landed in a fabulous job as I had hoped with my fabulous degree to help me. Now, I think I was crying because I was saying goodbye to the person I had been since I set out from Knockbeha in 2001, I cried over the passing of ‘Jess the student’. There was no PhD funding around so now I had to face a life time of being a grown-up. Scary stuff.

So here I am: an adult. It has not been a good week, the black dog lurks somewhere around, scarily close to my lovely Jack Russell. But on the other hand I heard that I would (probably, almost certainly) be getting a permanent job. I have a house, a dog, a car, a supportive family and someone who i live with who loves me very much (poor sod - he knew ‘Jess the student’ and I am sure she was more exciting), so it can’t all be bad, can it?