Sure, it's a little late to be talking about Tuesday. But Tuesday was worth talking about at the time, and it's still worth talking about.

It was, quite honestly, a glowing emotional achievement. I sat through roughly five minutes of vehement, repetitive verbal abuse from a professor who really seemed to take a somewhat inappropriate amount of pleasure from humiliating me in front of my classmates and program faculty. And not only did I not cry in front of everyone, I didn't cry at all. As a matter of fact, he was barely able to hurt me.

While I listened to his tirade about how I was apparently incapable of seeing what was right in front of me, the blood rushed to my face no doubt coloring it a seemly shade of embarassed. But. In my mind I just kept telling myself that if I could sit peacefully through those five or ten minutes, it would all be over, and I'd never have to put up with him again. Almost done, I thought. This is the last hurdle. This is my last test. If I can make it through this, I deserve to graduate, whatever else I may not have accomplished. So I did. With grace, composure, and good humor.

The last day or two, I've even been discussing him with a deep and serene generosity. After all, the nicer I am to him and the nastier he is in response, the bigger the payback will be when what goes around finally comes around.