Beginning of the End

So here I am, teetering on the edge of my spring break, looking down the slope that is the rest of the semester. There’s a turd in my sled.

I was in Toronto again for a couple of days, getting some perspective. The rest of the week was spent organizing and… stuff.

So begins the final run. The home stretch. The last gauntlet of challenges in my college career. The end of an era.

My thesis has been lying dormant the past week, as I wait for feedback from Dr. Lillios before re-editing to have Dr. Shrude look at it. Same old, same old. Basically, I couldn’t have worked on it this week even if I wanted to.

Even the best-case scenario for this thesis can’t possibly make up for the stress I’ve put myself through these past few months. So while I don’t have closure yet, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. The end result is a good piece of music that I hate, but by the standards of the academics, is very well done. I made the piece literally twice the required specifications, and it cost me a lot of grief. It became poisonous. Now it doesn’t matter anymore, because my worth as a human being is not contingent on some piece of music that no one will probably ever hear. I did what the university wanted, and I did it well. I’m not going to feel like a failure about it anymore.

That’s all I have to say about Volition. It doesn’t deserve any more blog space. That’s all the closure I can give it. In another couple weeks, everything will be said and done, and nothing I can do will make it happen any sooner. I should finish the defense about the same time I give that confounded analysis presentation (I’m thinking of doing Penderecki’s Threnody). All this will come to a head at the beginning of April.

For various reasons, I have also moved out of my office. The drawers of my desk are empty, and all that remains on the surface are a three-hole puncher, three empty paper trays, and a keyboard to be used for sightsinging exams. I’m not having my midday cup of coffee in the lounge, either. Essentially, I’m avoiding the music building. It’s better this way.

It’s the beginning of the end of school. It’s been my whole life. What happens next? I don’t know, but I’ll have time to reflect on everything later. No time for love, Dr. Jones.