It's official! I passed! Degree results were released this week, which means that I am now a Master of Victorian Literature. I was fairly confident when handing in my dissertation that I was submitting a pile of words at least worthy of a pass. But everybody knows not to count chickens before they hatch, so I decided to wait for the results before posting about this. My year as a Master's student was exciting, intense, tiring and...happy. That's the emotion that trumps all others.
I joked throughout the year that once I had completed the degree, I was going to starting referring myself as Master Di. I think it has a nice ring to it, as though I were a young Victorian chap. If someday I decide to subject myself to PhD study I would then be Dr. Di, which I think sounds like the cheesy moniker of a radio talk show therapist. Isn't that what we all aspire to in life? To have labels reminiscent of cheesy radio psychologists?
The picture above was taken moments after submitting my dissertation -- the culmination of the year. I had just endured the saga of all sagas (details shall follow shortly). I hadn't slept properly in days, felt sick as a bird and burst into tears on more than one occasion this day. Yet I maintain postgraduate study is fun. Yes, fun. That's love. If you look closely, I think you can see it on my exhausted, blinking, tear-stained face.