Yesterday, I submitted my dissertation, marking the triumphant end of my LLM journey. As I pressed that submit button, my heart thumped so hard I thought it might leap out, then, just as suddenly, it plummeted into the abyss of nothingness. What followed was not the grand, life-altering moment I had envisioned. Nope, no fireworks, no confetti. Just… nothing.

You see, I had built up this moment in my head—one hand gripping a steaming coffee mug, the other deftly steering a Ferrari down some scenic highway. This, I had decided, was what success felt like. But as the dust settled, my Ferrari dreams spiraled into the wind, leaving me with the uncomfortable realization that the only steering I’d be doing was on a two-wheeler… if I’m lucky.

I blame this on all the melodrama we’re fed daily—those grand depictions of success that we don’t even like anymore (not that we ever did, but you get the point). They’re just distractions, really. A way to keep us from noticing the mundane reality that comes with achieving something significant.

And let’s be honest—steering anything with a coffee mug in hand is a bad idea. Whoever came up with that trope clearly hasn’t experienced the trauma of coffee spillage at high speeds.

So here I am, post-dissertation, no Ferrari in sight, but at least my coffee is safe. It’s a funny kind of anti-climax, but it’s mine, and that’s okay. Now, I just need to figure out what to do with all this free time… maybe I’ll finally watch one of those melodramatic shows again—just to remind myself why I don’t like them anymore.

Later.

Jd