Over the past three months, I’ve put in countless hours of studying. I studied with a study group in Boulder every Sunday. I used every spare minute I could find—on the train commuting; reading at night before bed, in the morning over breakfast, on my breaks at work; all day on every Tuesday; etc. All for one thing…comps. Comprehensive exams. The exam that determines my fate as a linguist. Passing means I get my degree…not passing means I don’t; I’ve spent two years studying; paid nearly twenty thousand for advanced education. Yesterday was the day. I was all kinds of confident going in. Coming out, not so much. All the confidence was pretty drained by the vagueness of the questions. Now comes the waiting game. Waiting for the results. I thought that studying was hard. But the waiting game is harder. Ok, it’s a different kind of harder. But it’s not fun.