A pastoriori

Would you believe there are only two more weeks of classes left? It seems like only yesterday I was at orientation, getting used to the environment, using all my energy just to say hello. I know I felt self-conscious to begin with - being the only fartster in the class - but that didn't last long and now all I get is an occasional twinge when someone looks at me sideways in the library - registering my greying locks - perhaps for a moment wondering what in Sam Hill I'm doing there. I just pretend I'm a grad student working on a dissertation or something, and the twinge goes away.

I'm working hard on my studies. I have left, what, one large report, one minor exam, two quizzes and two more exams? I seem to be making friends and breaking them. The T/A in GNST doesn't seem to like me - oh well - but I've been invited by some students into their study group for the GNST exam. Hard to believe I had to wait 'til 46 to become one of the cool kids.

Can't bitch too much about the weather either. One little cold spot in the last two months, but mostly reasonable. I don't think that weather contributed to the cold I picked up in week two - by the way, I'm still coughing a little - just as I predicted. That, as I believe I mentioned at the time, is how colds go with me.

I never did pick up the Gauntlet thing again. A few things at play there: I guess I'm a sensitive old duck when it comes to my writing - because I work so hard at it - and I don't like going to all the trouble of doing the interview and spending four hours writing the piece, being told it's perfect, then not recognizing it when it hits print. Read: a fundamental disagreement on the role of the editor.

Another thing at play is the F-bomb; they want it, and I don't need it. I don't want it anywhere near my writings. I know, it's a youth thing - pressing the envelope, stretching the limits - but last I heard they were having trouble securing advertisers. I wonder why...

Well, got to go make my bed now.

J