Let's Play Catch-Up

So it appears that the last little blog blurb should have been called "Coming Later" rather than "Coming Soon". But good things come to those who wait, right?

I was really aiming to not talk about my feelings or mention the words "law" and "school" in the same sentence in this blog, but it looks like I will anyway. The good news is, I have good news. But first, let's poke fun at a non-law school graduate program, shall we?

Follow-up from previous post:

Guy in American Lit says he can't watch The Office because there are too many "socially awkward" situations. That's the point, brainiac. What's more socially awkward? The guy had more facial hair than Bigfoot himself, and this guy has access to a razor.

• This guy puts my classmates and I in socially awkward situations every day. I wish I could insert a dramatization of daily events here. Just use your imagination. Enter man. High-waisted pants. Shirt tucked in. No belt. Hair down to rear end. Beard. Resembles an unkempt, Anglo-Saxon Jesus. Stands beside desk. Flips hair over both shoulders. Right jab, left cross, head tilt. Sit. Class begins. Right jab, left cross, head tilt. My roommate suggested Tourettes syndrome as a possible explanation. You be the judge.

The long-lost Jonas Brother is in the same class.

• I have two classes with the Jo-Bro. He's an extremely nice, funny guy, but every time he walks into class, I hear the Jonas Brothers in my head (I would have said I can hear duhduh duh du-uh "I told you I made dinner plans/for you and me and no one else..." but you wouldn't catch it since I'm the only person over the age of 16 who owns their CD.).

I already found one girl, maybe two, I'd like to spill hot coffee on.

• Nice girl. I'm the one with the problem. And the hot coffee.

Now that we've had the chance to reminisce and reflect, I have to present you with the most wonderful grad school discovery yet: Talky McOldLady.

I have to credit the humorous name of this character to Laura Beth, who also faithfully documents the absurdities of Talky in a word document on her Mac. I'm just the messenger.

We should have known ol' Talky was going to be our main source of comic relief the day she walked in wearing velvety paisley pants and tried to convince Dr. Link that the rise of the picaresque novel in America paralleled the rise of opera in England.
Link: Well...I don't know about that. I don't know much about opera.
Talky: Me either.

Dr. Link had us buy a specific edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, as it was the complete authoritative text. He polled the class one morning.
Link: How much did the campus bookstore charge for this version of Huck Finn? THIS version. Not the Penguin Classic, not any other version. THIS SPECIFIC VERSION.
Class: Used, about $13.95. New, more like $17.95. Wasn't that bad.
Talky: I found the hardcover for $7.95 at Book Star.
Link: Seriously? Hard cover, for THIS SPECIFIC VERSION?
Talky: Oh, no, not that one. I didn't know what we were talking about.

That same day Talky tried to finish Link's sentence.
Link: The three characters of Rebecca Harding Davis' Life in the Iron Mills represent the head, the heart, and...???
Talky: The Feet!
Link: The pocket.

Then there was the lecture over the Civil War.
Link: ...and then there was the Battle of Chancellorsville. And what novel are we reading for this class that deals with the Battle of Chancellorsville?
Talking: The Novel of Chancellorsville!
Link: The Red Badge of Courage.
Note: The Novel of Chancellorsville was not on the syllabus. Probably because there is no Novel of Chancellorsville.

And finally...
Link: What Southern novel is it where the man has sex with the sheep?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: Anybody know?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: ?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: (finally acknowledging her) there actually aren't even farm animals in that novel. Anybody?

I can't even do the woman justice. You just have to be there. Anyway, the MA program is great. Of course, the first two weeks I hung my head in disgust at just how worthless English is and how I really screwed it up with law school and how I'd better brush up on my house-wife skills and birthing abilities. But then I started having loads of fun. IN CLASS. Like discussing different interpretations of Amiri Baraka's poetry. And learning how to teach writing. Watching entire movies about the Helvetica font while eating jerk chicken Nachos our teacher bought us for class. The environment is a complete 180 from that of law school. We sit in semi-circles or around tables with our professors and peers. One of my teachers thanked me for doing some research on a poem that I figured I was supposed to do anyway. We're always being asked our opinions and people actually thank you for sharing and encourage your line of thought. The professors have so much less ego too. I got caught by a train the second week of school and came to my American Lit class 15 minutes late. I opened the door and braced myself for an "evil eye" or royal ass-chewing/request to leave. Dr. Link said "Come on in!" and continued lecturing. I don't fear class anymore and I'm being encouraged to think and write original papers with an original thesis that complements my research interests, instead of regurgitate in 3 hours on a computer screen all I've learned in a semester. Much to my surprise, I'm really enjoying myself and I genuinely think this is where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing. Life is good again.

Ok, go ahead and do your sneering, tools-from law school-who-read-my-blog (Note: going to law school doesn't make you a tool. I have a lot of great friends from the law school. I'm speaking specifically to the sneering tools here). "She's just saying that because she got academically excluded/is pissed she can't do moot court like I can/generally sucks at life." You can now go stuff it. I don't cry myself to sleep at night. I enjoy what I learn, and my so-called "friends" aren't trying to psych me out before an exam or lie to me about an assignment so they can get ahead. It's quite nice. I'll now let you get back to not-briefing-cases-because-it's-lame and counting all the Facebook friends you've acquired since you started a smaller school where people might actually remember your name since you won't shut up in class and they're pretty much forced to.

And I'll get back to time-out for acting really childish in that last paragraph. But soooooo?! Booyah.