Hyperbolic

It's been ages since I've last updated. Things feel much the same. I finished all my grad school applications, and now I wait until March or April to find out my fate (my wyrd, as I just finished reading Beowulf). After looking over one of my applications, I realized I screwed up big time. I made silly grammatical errors that I'm really ashamed to have made. Luckily, it wasn't for the school that I really have my hopes set on. Unfortunately, it was my Plan C school, and if I don't get into it, I may be certifiably boned.

I graduate in May. May. 116 days. I feel too small to graduate, for graduate school. I worry about what would happen if I don't get accepted, but I also worry about what will happen if I do. Both seem impossible. My lease doesn't end until July 31st, though, so it would appear that I'm worrying now for nothing. If I get in, I'll go. If I don't, I'll stay, and try again. But right now, I feel as if I am either treading unceremoniously still waters, or getting ready to enter an unconquerable torrent.

As far as this semester goes, I'm procrastinating the one thing I need to be doing (THESIS!). I'm strangely diligent in one of my classes, normally studious in the others. I miss Weiss' philosophy class. There was room for discussion there. He knew the answers, but left room for questions. My history professor, though brilliant, asks us questions to which he already has definite answers. My Anglo-Saxon professor gives us quizzes. Weiss told good stories. And we, as classmates, sparked a strange camaraderie amongst each other that is rare to most classrooms.

I have a new boss. His name is Jim and he is tall and full of energy. This is a nice contrast to the sack of oats that occupied the desk previously. Also, he seems to value my opinion as an employee; he is not patronizing and he seems to trust my opinions. I hope he is not too young and too bold for the congregation. Or rather, I hope they are not stalwarts of tradition. My job has been incredibly busy lately, and I've enjoyed it. I feel revitalized at work. I feel as if my paycheck is not a thief's bounty. It's strange, feeling like my part-time job is my work, and my classes are play.

I received a compliment, a prompt to enter an essay contest, and an encouragement to present my research from a professor who I did not realize knew my name, much less remembered the paper I wrote. I still place my teachers in a box, and assume they do not have memories for the students they teach. One day, I would like to sit down with them, as something other than a student, and talk about things other than literature. If I was not a student, could we be friends?

I threw my mother a surprise 50th birthday party on Saturday. I sat, very much a guest, at a table of women who were all in their late 40's and early 50's. They told stories I should have paid more attention to so that I could write them down one day and feel nostalgic. They remarked on their age: their 30s were good because that was their time that they grew and knew their families. In their 40s, they met their closest friends, and came to know themselves. They feel old and aging in their 50s, but it's nice, because they really know themselves and are comfortable with the women they have come to be. There wasn't much I could contribute to this dialogue. None sat around the table wanted to return to their 20s--too much was uncertain, too much of themselves was unknown. If they had to go back, they would want to take with them the wisdom they now posses. I'm 22. I feel I know myself fairly well, yet in their company, I felt young, foolish, and unrefined. I felt like there is still very much I've yet to learn, but my lessons must be stumbled across and not sought out.

One day, I will write a play about these women.