Master Completion
The morning ceremony was unexpectedly great. It was short and sweet, and the Liberal Studies Department definitely represented with its raucous response to Jim's being introduced to give us our diplomas.
After we all crossed the stage and took our seats, he went into a short spiel about the department, giving those who are less used to interdisciplinary programs a primer. He said he would read the titles of four completed theses from this year's class. Mine wouldn't have been read because 1) it wasn't complete and 2) it didn't have a title.
He began with one work about Sophocles and the call to reorder Antigone's story. Applause. He moved on to another work about the lack of representation of the gypsies in remembrances of the Holocaust. The next thesis to represent the Liberal Studies program was the identity of business clothing. A sociological work. All great theses, all by good friends.
I was excited to have walked across the stage. I was excited to have been a part of the shared intensity we all let out as we sat in our seats. We all worked so hard to make it to that day, questioning our place, wondering why we were there, struggling through hours upon hours of writing word after word we were never sure would fly.
Jim made it to the fourth representation of what makes up Liberal Studies.
"Now this is an example of a typically gutsy Liberal Studies thesis and one of my favorites," he began. "And, mind you, this is not the title, because it's not set yet: How watching the film Hedwig and the Angry Inch changed my life for the better when I first saw it in a Central California movie theatre ..."
I sat motionless for a split second, feeling the confusion of sadness over my thesis' completion and pride over having finished it. Pride over having earned my seat among theorists who were smarter than I. What had I become? This public recognition of my thoughts, my hard work in producing a personal account of gender, in a roomful of doctoral students from countries all over the world who will go onto great things, overwhelmed me. I was shocked. My hands shot up, fists closed in exultation, celebration. It mattered.
After that ceremony, I went up to the reception but could only stay for a few minutes because there were way too many people and I felt a little claustrophobic. I have no idea why, but I took my leave of the free food rather quickly and went back to the GF building to put on my cap and gown.
Julie, Amy and I got dressed in the TCDS office and took a ceremonial smoke break in front of the GF. We headed down 14th St. to the train, robes trailing off our bodies, my cap perfectly still on top of my head. We hopped the train for Madison Square Garden. We did it all. We received "congratulations" from nice strangers whose paths we crossed on the way and made it to the stadium so we could stand for an hour or so before sitting through two and a half hours of speeches.
It was kind of terrible, actually, but I'm glad I went. Donna Karan, the fashion designer we gave an honorary degree to, was bored. Harry Belefonte's wife accepted an honorary degree for a friend of hers. Ted Sorenson, JFK speech writer, gave a really long but really good speech about the sad state of the current U.S. government, and Sheila Johnson (I think that's her name) gave a terrible concluding speech that basically said, "give back to New School. I have given $7 million." Whatever. It was long. Jill and Erin and I then went to dinner and I finally made it home and collapsed on my bed with my glasses still on my head. I'm still exhausted. The good news is it's still early and I may be getting back to a decent bedtime routine. I start my new job on June 7 so I have some time.
The thesis. Last night, I decided just to get it turned in. I can look at it every day and change stuff, so I just needed to stick with something and get it out of my sight. I got it to a near-finished point, the remainder of which I would go over with Cornelia. Then at some point last night, my computer, my baby, started making weird noises. It was actually a nice beat, but I knew it was wrong. It froze. I did not panic. I got my iBook manual and tried to address the problem. It worked, and I immediately e-mailed my thesis to myself. Then it happened again. I didn't care. The thesis was safe. And it's now out of my life. Kind of. I turned it in.
But it'll never be out of my life. I had a lot of fun writing it. And thinking about things like gender identity. Cornelia said she liked it and she's a philosophy student. Jim said it was one of his favorites and he didn't even see the final product. So I'm very happy with it. The last thing to do was come up with a title. So with time running out today, I struggled over one, intent on not using a colon. And then it came to me. I called Amy to see what she thought. She dug it. And so it stuck:
"What Are You Looking At? My Gender Journey through the Film Hedwig and the Angry Inch."
It's done. Turned in. And I'm done. this transition phase is interesting and one that I'm not sure I understand yet. The biggest reason for that is probably that I'm really tired. But it's also the prospect of not having something due (although the short story is due on Monday).
Not having to read books and prepare discussion points. I have to get used to situating myself into a rythm of learning and knowledge acquisition outside of academia. This is not something I set out to do when I left Chico. It's definitely different now. And I'm tired. A little sad. Not just about the end of school but about a lot of things. But that's the way it's supposed to be.
I think I might actually believe it now.
