You knew it was coming. You know I can’t resist making allusions to The Lord of the Rings every time I talk about going back to school. It’s been a habit for the past two years, so hopefully you all are used to it enough by now to follow me when I talk about such things.
Really all I am is just a little hobbit trying to get a little ring to Mordor. Every semester. Yes, I repeat the process every semester–I start with the ring, I sweat and run and panic and pant and nearly die all semester long, chuck that ring into the fiery furnace from whence it came, and then I get to come home and prop my feet up for a few weeks.
Only this time, it’ll be the last time. My last trek to Mordor of my undergrad years. There…and back again. And then what? All good things come in good time.
There’s much to be done this semester. President of my literary society. Writing things. Doing well in classes. Graduating.
And beyond, no silver curtain for me–no misty grey haven awaits me. Save the Shire and stick around. I can’t take the Frodo option and sail into the ambiguous east–no, I need to be a Samwise and be mayor for eight successive terms. Or Pippin, who becomes the Great Took of all Tooks. There’s work to be done, whatever it is, and I didn’t go to Mordor and back just to rest on my laurels. I’ve got to do something.
It’ll just take another adventure to help me figure out what.