Zygoteville

Keep On Keepin' On

I just wrote the final tuition check for my very last semester in law school. It is, in all likelihood, the last check that will ever again go to paying for formal higher education of any kind for myself. The event is momentous, to say the least, something that the final flourish of the signature and the sealing of the envelope does not quite capture or really appropriately acknowledge.

And so I am left with a strange feeling, something not unlike release and also not unlike the gradual but growing cognizance of the slow, pressing weight of a burden that is descending upon me, taking its time to make itself comfortable and setting down deep--very deep--roots. The sensation reminds me that above all my life and what I make of it is at once singularly my own and yet in every sense, simultaneously also not (never was) my own, and that what I think is an end is, as cliché as it sounds, only the very beginning.

And a final thought: If I could somehow put a sound to this moment, I guess it would be a giant sucking sound. How about that?