11 June 2005
impersonator lapdance
It's the funniest thing: I've been saving all my grad school e-mails and letters and forms and contracts, but not for sentimental purposes.
This scenario runs through my head that I show up on Move-In Day and/or Orientation and that no one has any record of me (or worse, says I've been rejected) and that I have to prove that yes, I did indeed gain admission here and that yes, indeed, I can prove it.
"Here are the forms, please, take them, let me in your classes, let me earn my degree here, let me live here and breathe here and open all the doors to me that I've ever wanted, let me drink coffee at the coffeeshop right off campus that everyone goes to and study in your library and hang out at your parties and have the student life I missed out on; let me validate myself in your hallowed halls; let me suck marrow and glean and reflect positively on you in the future."
I realized this week as I was organizing my clothes to be packed up (yes, throw away, give to charity) that it's actually happening.
I've had this miserable past year, where I drowned in diapers and mediocrity. It got better after Christmas, when I paid off my debts so that I could actually spend my piddly au pair salary rather than sending it back home, just like illegal immigrants all the world over. So I've actually enjoyed the past six months, except for the work part.
The best thing about graduate school, the truly best thing is this: When I finish, I can get a job I like instead of one that just serves as a means to an end. The job, the teaching position, can be the end. Or it can be the means or the journey, which is the destination, if you come from the right generation and school of thought.
It's remarkable, though, how much one can learn to Eat Shit And Like It if one has to. But what's also remarkable is that after the next year, I'll never have to ever again till death do us part.
betholindo at 19:31