Hi everyone. Do you remember, once upon a time, when I threatened to quit the blog because I was pretty sure it would end up a big ol' steaming pile of pedestrian whining about graduate school? Then, like 3 of you told me not to. And none of you told me to scram. So here we are. You can only blame yourselves. Don't say I didn't etc.
Look, actually, secretly, I love it [school
, not the blog
. gross]. In many ways, this is an incredibly decadent, luxurious, nigh-on narcissistic exercise, all this book-larnin'. It's an expensive exercise, sure, but it's also quite indulgent, nurturing your mind and burnishing your resume instead of cranking out widgets and gizmos in the looney-tunes Dr. Seuss factory that (in my personal mythology) signifies the real world. So, while it's obvious that I'm becoming somewhat unhinged, I'm also aware that it's incredibly indelicate to complain about such a privileged and fortunate position.
Anyway, let's get to it.
Oh my gawwwwd.
How to tell you how much time I have spent in the library. I just drew up a Harper's Index-style table to illustrate the numbing reality, but it seemed sort of sad and obnoxious and so I erased it. Suffice to say, a lot
. I'm closing down the library more times than I've closed down bars
. Sometimes I wander over to celebrity gossip pages and look at Lindsey Lohan and think about her having orgiastic starlet meltdowns all over the west coast and think about myself sitting quietly in the library chair through my 20s and find it funny that girls these days have such choices, or anyway, such outcomes.
I should be more positive about my temporary residence. It is
nice that my signature chair, like Memory Foam, is now nicely cushioned about my cushion, even when I'm not sitting in it. And I think I've developed a crush on shelf DS 918 - DT 108.4, what from staring at it so long.
And at least I'm not alone here; there's always the comfort of camaraderie. The girl with far too much faith in the soundproofing capabilities of plywood who goes into study rooms to shut the door and freak out singing Bonnie Tyler. The Europeans who get up to take smoke breaks every 45 seconds and explain football
tournament rules to anyone who will listen. My poor, harried study partner who always turns up in the library looking haunted and frantic about something, stutters about for a few desperate seconds, and then, having made up her mind, flutters off to quell some crisis elsewhere.
I just sit here, watching the parade, forcing my fingers to make clacky noises on the keyboard through sheer force of will and epic, feeble mind games. Did you see Lord of the Rings? I'm the Gollum.
I would like a tangerine. [says me]You don't deserve a tangerine!!!
But I would like one, and I'm fidgety.Your fingers will get sticky! Type two more pages and then have your sticky tangerine!
I'm picking it up.Put it down!
Okay. ... I'm picking it up again.Put it down!
I'm going to write a blog post.No! Two more pages!
The tangerine's lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And yards to write before I sleep
And yards to write before I sleep.Incidentally, have you heard Robert Frost was a total ass? And didn't know horses from shinola?