The final half credit

Five years and 96 days ago, I moved into Willison Hall, onto floor B2, and began one of the most defining experiences of my life to date.

Thirty minutes ago, for all intents and purposes, I closed the book on that chapter. No. I slammed the book. And then I bound the book with leather straps, never to be opened again, and I hurled the book into an abyss from atop a high cliff.

Which is to say, I finished my 40th course, the final credit in my Honours English degree at Wilfrid Laurier University. All that now stands between me and my new status as a university graduate, barring unforeseen disaster, is the time leading up to my June convocation, and presumably a few ambiguously named administrative fees.

I feel as though an oppressive weight has been lifted. The last couple credits were a struggle of monumental proportions, it taking me from May 2007 until December 2008 - 20 freaking months - to get the last credit and a half.

Taking two courses last winter, while simultaneously working two jobs that kept me busy at least 60 hours a week, was not a particularly fun experience. But no course in my entire degree was more difficult to stick with than this final one.

Pounding out three (short) essays, five online discussions (even if I failed to do two of them), and an online exam was not only logistically difficult in a place like Freetown - living here was motivational manslaughter. I seriously considered dropping the course on three separate occasions to give me leave to more fully enjoy my time here, but couldn't face the prospect of my graduation being delayed yet another year.

As I worked away on the final essay yesterday, I found myself facing another roadblock, unable to access the Laurier library journals I needed to conduct my research due to an expired library card.

Too close to the finish line to be deterred, I changed my MSN name and Facebook status to reflect the bind I found myself in. Within minutes, though the clocks back home read 5:30 a.m., I was again marveling at the impact of technology as I browsed the library, thanks to fellow insomniacs Carlson and Ciesluk; my historical and cultural analysis of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland not only got done, but turned out pretty well.

And now, finally being done, I am left with a feeling of immense gratification. In the dark of an electricity-less Freetown Friday night, mine is a calm contentment, a quiet bliss. I will never have to write another essay in my entire life. Euphoria.

The only question that remains is whether or not I should attend convocation, which is scheduled to fall sometime between June 3rd and 5th. My contract here runs until May 11, but I am hoping to do some travelling afterwards. Though travel itineraries are bound to be made and remade many times over before then, the current incarnation of my imagined meanderings would have me visiting Hamlet in France or Bryn in Belgium around that time.

Is further immediate travel worth missing my only chance to participate in convocation? My gut says yes, but I leave it for you savvy folks, especially those that have already done the convocation thing, to discuss and determine my plan of action.

As for me, I've got five months of school-free Sierra Leone to enjoy, and right now I should get some sleep so that I'm well rested for tomorrow night's taxing obligations: a morning hike, eating dinner at my favourite restaurant and drinking on a beach for a buddy's birthday.