The Whateverlah Blog

signing off from Btown for the last time.

Now that the apartment’s quiet again, I sat down to check my score for the exam I took a month ago.

When all is said and done, there’s only the goat left to throw:

Commencement is over. This journey that began two and half years ago is over.

Ok. Now you get why I hate grad week?

Today I hitz teh reboot button and I fines me back in Bloomington. aginz. it been five weeks.

Holla.

I got two things I need to do to close out the academic portion before graduation. I kinda really need to get on that.

Maybe tomorrow.

Then I gotta figure out all the fun paperwork redtape I’ma gonna have to get done to be certified by the state of Indiana to teach.

Be afraid, be very afraid. I will soon be licensed to mold young minds. This could be dangerous.

Speaking of caesar, I could really do with a caesar salad right now. And for some reason, the chicken strips from Chick-Fil-A topping a caesar salad sounds mighty tasty. Hrrmm….

makes me feel like:

Having to wait 4 weeks for the results makes me feel like:

I am trying to avoid Walmart (and Kmart and Target and just about every other grocery place) for the next couple weeks. But I found myself having to make a run for neccessities, so I had to brave the hordes of freshman and their parents taking over Bloomington. And in there in one of the food aisles I overheard:

Father: You could get milk and keep it in the fridge you know?
Incoming Freshman: *mumbling something unintelligible*

Surely, surely I had missed something, the beginning of the conversation perhaps. Regardless, that kept me amused the whole time while dodging trolleys.

This Calvin and Hobbes strip was forwarded to me by my former supervisor who is really awesome.

Time to break into the freakout dance (which… I’ve never stopped doing. heh)

I’m putzing around on the computer and then the thought suddenly hits me – it won’t be long before soon that I’ll no longer be in this country. Man. That’s depressing. I try not take the time I spend here for granted. Part of the appeal is the impermanence of it. But that’s the problem rite? If you live in two worlds, you can never find your place in either?

Know what I’m sayin? No? That’s okay. I’m not sure I do either. Cause see, I’m doing this serious avoidance dance with my pile of homework. I have a research paper due on Tuesday that I’ve yet to move beyond the second draft. Moteevayshun. I no has it.

… it never gets old.

And just a beautiful day on campus yesterday:

For some reason the original post did not allow for comments. I can’t have that!

Reason #6296 why people think librarians don’t need a master’s degree:

We spend our time making goop (aka gak) in a graduate level course.

fellow grad student: You are amazing
not that I ever had doubts
me: nah. just in a rush to graduate.
fellow grad student: but wtf and omg to your shcedule

….

Heh. Not that you guys weren’t sympathetic to my current semester’s clusterf*ck of a schedule but it’s funny to have a schoolmate tell me I’m crazy. like, yea, I know. do you know how many parties and invites to drink I’ve had to say no to? It’s not fair. wtf and omg indeed.

School and life are not my friends. It’s the end of the week but it’s not a weekend. No. I think of all the things I’ve to do and I wanna cry. The craziness that started in December.. it never really ended. The brief respites alleviated little. It’s like a Simpsons episode where Homer would fall off the mountainside hitting every painful boulder on his way and then gets stuck on a branch sticking out; but then the branch breaks and he keeps falling. d’oh. d’oh to every day and every week this year has been.

Raise your hands if you, like me, were raised to think a grade of ‘B’ or lower means you’re an utter failure. Right, thanks, you may lower them now. So if I said I’m possibly getting a 4.0 for the spring semester it should translate not as hubris but relief that I’m not going to beat myself up over what a long, tiring, useless 4 months it had been.

I love, LOVE, *LOVE* this city, when it’s 35 degrees and above and only when; nothing I write can ever describe how wonderful spring (and summer and fall) is. I tried to write about it, to express the joy, trying to have written words lend force to emotions I can hardly voice. I am not Emerson – “I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty”; not even Whitman (Give me the splendid silent sun?). So I leave that to them. But — I’d been out of town for a week and was driven back last night. My chauffeur, a non-native, she had the windows down and inhaled deeply, remarking how wonderful it smells. And in that instant, I felt my feelings were validated. No need for me to write love sonnets for this quirky oasis of liberalism in Indiana. Strange, how things work. I just needed someone else to say it.

And lastly, summer school is going to kick my ass. Hard.

this. fucking. paper. is done.

now i hafta work on this. other. fucking. paper.

i wuv you all. 0:)