Doctor of Philosophy

So, it's over.

I guess when you get to this point in your life, it's normal to take a step back and say: hey, I did it. I guess when your entire life has been building up to one moment, and that moment finally shows up, you're supposed to have a huge sense of accomplishment.

Well, that hasn't hit me quite yet. Maybe it will on convocation day. Right now, I just kinda feel numb. It's over, I made it. All the papers have been turned in, all the forms have been filled out, all the signatures collected. All the exams have been written or spoken, all the experiments performed. It's over.

It's weird, I guess. Like I said, I just feel numb. Like I've just had some giant grab me by the legs and beat me against a wall for four years straight, then went to the hospital and got put on so many painkillers I barely even know my own name, much less that I was just grabbed by the legs and beaten against a wall. Honestly, I think I'm just tired.

So, convocation is in June. June 9th, to be exact. I haven't decided whether I'm going or not. Okay, that's a lie: I think my mom will disown me if I don't, but having seen what my older brother had to wear when he got handed his PhD back in November, I gotta say I'm not terribly thrilled at the prospect. For those of you who aren't firmly associated with an academic setting, PhDs in many institutions are required to wear something that, for some bizarre reason, is very different from the traditional cap 'n' gown. Every university has its unique academic dress or regalia that they hand out to doctoral students so that people will think they're special or something. That wouldn't bug me that much if the academic dress of the University of Calgary weren't the most godawful combination of colors and textures I can imagine. I swear, the person who designed it must've been colorblind; and I don't mean red-green, or blue-yellow colorblind. I mean, black, white and shades of gray colorblind. And on top of that, they had bad taste. Our academic reglia looks like it was put together by a two-year-old with fingerpaint. The only bright spot in the whole thing is the hat. Yes, it looks like a mortar board in desperate need of Viagra, but at least it's not as Mad-Hatter-esque as a lot of the hats I've seen. It's more of a subtle black beret-like hat that they call a John Knox Cap. I can't find a picture of it online, but it really does look like a flaccid mortar board.

I've gotta admit that I've never fully understood the need for a graduation ceremony. It always struck me as a somewhat cultish activity. Like the academic elders were saying "yes, you are worthy of joining us." Basically, you end up with a super-high-up guy who stands atop a stage proclaiming to the world that you are henceforth to be called "Doctor," then hands you a piece of paper, announcing your name to the crowd and pretending that he actually knows who the hell you are. I'm not saying I have an issue with academia; obviously, I don't, since I've dedicated the better part of my young life to it, but I have to admit that I don't fully understand all the pomp and circumstance surrounding it. So if I go to this graduation ceremony; and let's be honest, I probably will; it won't be for me that I'm going. I'm going for my parents. I'm going for April. I'm going for my two brothers who want to watch me walk across the stage in a suit that makes every rational human being on earth ask "I wonder how many of them can fit into a tiny car?"

All that said, I'm going to look into getting my hands on a Kilt. Dad has some thing about wanting to see me wear a kilt to my graduation. Hell, you only do this once.