It’s been a week. It seems like everyday has been loaded with meetings and e-mails and calls and planning – nothing particularily busy, but busy work and busy things, it seemed to make it long and tedious. For the first time in a while I’m glad that it’s Friday, and I have the entire weekend off without any kind of necessary work, meetings or anything really. I have the whole weekend to read and write essays (I know, may not sound like fun to you, but I love it) and hang out with J. while he’s home. Which, given, isn’t a lot of time with all his rehearsals and work – but it still means that I get to stay home and be there while he is.
Also, I’ve been researching and planning applications to grad school. It is such a strange process, to distill all that you’ve done into just a series of numbers (and sometimes dissapointing ones) at that. You can’t expressively put in numbers the experience and life that you’ve lived in four years.. Hopefully my reference letters, writing samples and letters of intent will do that for me, with any luck. Oh well, somebody will take me right? *smile* I figure that I’ve got at least 6 years of doing what I love, and I think that may be more than my fair share of happiness. I just keep thinking that as I fill in my student ID number over and over..
(Oo.. I found this awesome little site called Polyvore that lets me make neat collages, and if you click on them it takes you to a list of everything that’s in the collage.. It’s better than posting reams and reams of little things, I get to play art-class and make them into something nice. That was definately a high point. See post below for my first kick at the can)
Went out last night with the Humanities Profs.. it was actually a lot less nerve wracking than I thought it was going to be. I think sometimes I forget that they don’t actually live in their offices and subsist on coffee and shredded papers alone, they actually drink cheap shitty beer like the rest of us and have interests outside school. Mind you, at I did wonder at some point in the evening when the phrase “He’s a midievelist” had snuck into my life and felt at home there… I forget sometimes to step out from my own world inhabitated by dead old men and their tomes.. hanging out with these people makes me feel like thats not such a bad thing. It was nice, and comforting to know that I’m not the only one out there desperately in love with books.
Alright lovelies, I’m going to pack it in. I’m sure I’ll be posting over the weekend given the plethora of time I have free. *smile* xoxo