high highs, low lows
So far, being at this new school is like riding a rollercoaster — the kind that I don’t actually ride in amusement parks because I usually vomit caramel apples everywhere after I do.
When it’s good, it’s really pretty good. We have some nice facsimile manuscripts in the rare book room that I am going to go look at one of these days — probably not this week because I’m so sleep deprived I’ve forgotten how to use the elevator — and most of the other students in the department are really friendly. The medievalists here are fabulous. And I got into the Folger Institute workshop I applied to (with a seriously revised research statement, of course).
But the lows… well, typical first year fare I guess.
My sister, who picked up my MA thesis from Old School today, wrote, “Did you know they printed your birth date wrong?” I checked my copy and no, actually, they printed it exactly like I gave it to them. Wrong day, wrong month. Yeah. It’s been that kind of week (even though the birthate snafu happened several months ago, still kind of fits the week).
This past weekend, my daughter was looking over my shoulder as I was reading Levinas. She picked up a pencil and wrote in the margin, “What are U meanin’?” That pretty much sums up my class participation so far this semester.
