I didn't even throw up before my defense.
It went really well. My committee was positive and supportive and asked good questions. I brought a huge stack of notes with me that I didn't refer to once. There as once question I KNEW I was going to be asked about my use of the abject; I was a little bit uncomfortable about my ability to answer this particular question, and of course it was asked first. It lasted about an hour and a half, which flew by. Waiting afterward while they deliberated felt much longer.
I passed. They asked for minor revisions, all of which I agree with. I've started making them already; I'll be done before the end of the month. I passed, and they all liked the project and wanted me to continue it.
I wanted, so badly, for it all to be over. I imagined that I'd defend and never want to look at Tonsil Hockey again. I wouldn't have to; I'd be free. All this experience did was make me want to keep working on it. It feels anticlimactic to be working on it a little more, but also a relief; I was not ready to let it go. Even when the final copy is handed in to Grad Studies, I can't see myself ever leaving it completely. Serves me right for starting an open ended project. Or serves me write.
Of course I got drunk. My mother had asked that I keep myself out of the hospital, and that I managed. That's about all I can say. Shelley and derek and Belinda all met me and the committee in the grad lounge for champagne. My external committee member and I talked about our cats and her art show.I was still plenty coherent then, just happy. Then at about 6, we wandered down to the Kensington pub. A small crowd, including Ed and my brother, were already there.
It went so fast. It seemed just about everyone came, even if they stayed just a few minutes. Even the people from work came out. I remember laughing a lot. There were nachos and 5-cent chicken wings, rye-and-cokes and rockstars. It was, inevitably, Paul Kennett who ended things. He and I did a shot of tequila. I felt much better after I threw up.
I almost fell asleep in a doorway at 2am, curled up on the cement steps, waiting for a cab to come. When we got home, I fell in bed and called for Ed to help me because my shoes were making me hot and I couldn't get them off by myself.
I felt surprisingly okay the next day. My brother, Natalee, Jeremy, Casey, Mo and I all went to Dairy Lane for the Best Breakfast Ever. Mike and I then went to The Farmer's Market for fruit. Mike finally had to go to work. I spent the afternoon in the back yard, letting the cats eat grass and chase moths in the sunshine. I thought about the work I had to do, and it made me happy.