"And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent labours?" ~ Jane Eyre

I am sipping a latte, after sipping a cup of coffee, after sipping a demi-tasse of soorj. My eyelids are heavy despite all of this sipping, and these hands need a break from typing words associated with the Black Mountain poet Charles Olson and his influence on performance poetry.

I spent the hours of the late morning in Axinn Library at Hofstra. Each time I go there, I always leave feeling pangs of jealousy towards peers that are full time grad students and my colleagues who have finished their Masters. While roaming in the stacks on the sixth floor, I tell myself that I will be a better grad student: I will spend more of my free time in the library, I will do more research, and I will not procrastinate.

Then, I get out of the stacks and tell myself: you have no free time unless you count the time you drive to and from work; how much more research can you possibly do on Melville's use of the word "savage" in Typee without wanting to hunt down your professor with a spear for assigning the question to begin with?; how does one procrastinate when one has no time to procrastinate with?

I know these feelings of jealousy are irrational. After all, I am grateful to have an established career after six years of being an English teacher, and I believe many of my colleagues who have a Masters in Education should have gotten it in their concentration instead. I love being independent, and I love knowing my degree will be in Literature.

Still, moments like this get frustrating. It often becomes a Catch 22, which makes me sad because I wish I could enjoy the coursework more instead of being overwhelmed by deadlines and juggling priorities along with it.

Is there glory in being a master of literature? Am I satisfied with the result of my labors?

Ask me in May, the month I shall hopefully graduate in.

In the meantime, I need to get back to Charlie O. and get some expresso and then keep up this grad student lamenting by saying, "Ooooooh."