Because damnit I’ve worked for six and a half years for this friggin’ thing and I deserve some prezzies.

—–

– A copy of the 250 dollar academic book I desperately needed for my dissertation work but couldn’t afford to buy so I kept renewing the copy I had checked out at the library for five and a half straight years.

– A t-shirt that says “not the useful kind of doctor” in case anybody in my general vicinity suddenly stops breathing or needs a mole checked out.

– A telescope so I can look out into the depths of outer space and try to count one star for every time I’ve heard “six years for a piece of paper and three letters behind your name huh?!” only to soon find I’ve run out of fucking stars.

– A precise, up-to-date manual on when I’m allowed to use my title and when I’m not, so as to delicately straddle the line between what I’ve rightfully earned and what makes me sound like an insufferable asshole.

– An alcohol. Any alcohol.

– A new life purpose. HAHAHAHAHA JK ONLY JOSHIN’ no but really though now what.

– Lifetime access to all the online academic databases to which I’m suddenly going to lose access, as if in exchange for receiving a diploma I have to renounce my right to a treasure trove of knowledge. Think Ariel in The Little Mermaid except my Ursula is the university libraries system.

– Another alcohol. No, not that one. I already had that one.

– A coffee mug that reads “I don’t give a fuck about your grammar you dipshit although truth be told it is fucking terrible” that I can just slowly bring up to my face and sip from while staring someone dead in the eye after they make an off-hand remark about how I’ve got a PhD in English so I’m probably going to correct their grammar all the time.

– A nap (quantity: 164,656,961)

– A nice greeting card I can give my mom that succinctly conveys sympathy for the fact that she’s just going to have to live with the knowledge that this is my big life thing to which I’ve given all my energy and that a wedding and children grow exponentially unlikely with each passing day I’m over the age of 30.

– A shock collar that’s calibrated to only go off when I start drunkenly telling people at parties that I have a doctorate.

– A nice leather bound folder in which to store all my grad school, journal publication, conference proposal, and scholarship application rejection letters that I can peruse whenever I start feeling too positive about myself.

– A high five for my dog; he’s been through a lot.

– Katie Sisneros still doesn’t know how to feel about all this.