Friday

Today is, obviously, Friday. It's one of my three days during the week to work on my dissertation. Of course I've also agreed to schedule a weekly conference call on Friday mornings. And I spent about an hour picking up the house, taking care of little things that I haven't had the time to do earlier in the week. I can already predict where this day is going.

There's part of me that just wants to pick up one of the books I've been trying to read and sit outside in the warm fall sun and read and drink coffee. Of course I won't. It seems too selfish, too decadent, so completely unproductive. But I am so tired. I don't know if tired is the right word. Perhaps weary is a better description.

My oh-so-savvy dissertating friend said yesterday that she thinks we are tired because we have been living for 4 1/2 years under pressure. It hasn't let up. There hasn't been one day in that time that we've been able to say, "I have nothing to do today." Sure, we've taken vacations, enjoyed outings with family, gone out with friends, watched movies, read books, taken naps -- but all along with all those activities there is the underlying feeling that there is more work to do, more pages to write, more articles to read, more, more, more. It's an on-going project that never seems to end.

Now, as we inch ever closer to defending our dissertations and graduation, we feel the strain even more. It's not getting easier because there is a big push at the end that is entirely exhausting.