Great Expectations

Billy assures me that everything is going to be fine.

Anne-Marie reassures me that writing a new paper to serve as my writing sample is a wise though difficult choice.

Katie says she knows I will be able to work through all the remaining questions.

But pressure is mounting.

The paper is mostly written. I mostly know what I need to read and research to finish it up. I am mostly sure that it's one of the most original, well-researched ideas I've ever developed.

The application is due December 8. Between Dec 3 and Dec 11, I also have to give four presentations in four different classes. On Dec 14 I have to turn in the seminar paper version of the writing sample, and on Dec 17 I have to turn in my other final paper. I'm not the type of person who is debilitated by looming deadlines. I map everything out, I set daily deadlines, and I always find a way to get it all done.

But I keep finding myself in neutral. I'm stalling out. I'm running out of gas after a long, overwhelming semester. The pressure of knowing that this paper is the single most significant factor in the outcome of my PhD application is seriously stressing me out. I feel like it has to be the best idea I've ever thought, the most coherent argument I've ever put together, the most articulate paper I've ever written. In fewer than 20 pages.

Luckily, Vickie arrives in a few hours. She will find a way to remind me of goofy things I did when I was a kid. Like when I walked across the deck singing "Love Potion #9" at the top of my lungs without realizing she was sitting there. Or how we used to have a hand-motion dance to 'N Sync's "Bye Bye Bye" that we performed in the car (um, yes, while driving). Or how we both used to have knees that constituted the widest parts of our legs. I'm counting on her visit to remind me that grad school, and this paper, will only be one chapter in the very long and so far successful book of my life. I'll only become Miss Havisham by developing an unnatural fixation and obsession with this one thing. That, I think, is what I need to remind myself to believe if I'm going to get it done.

(Great Expectations is by Charles Dickens. You know it. You love it. You've all, at least once in your life, felt a little bit like Pip.)