Monday, September 12, 2005

Suntan, school, and other thoughts

So, I keep looking down at my arms, impressed by how brown they are. And how brown are they, you might ask? Well, imagine a slice of WonderBread that has been left in the toaster for about, say, ten seconds. And for me, that is super brown. I really shouldn't be so happy about it though. I noticed another swatch of freckles across my shoulder blades. Tiny little spots of potential cancer... Sigh. Back to the fake-bake.

I am now in the writing center, waiting for my 11am appointment. As it is now past 11:30, I am assuming that he will not be showing up today. His loss. He--and the other students in his class--are required to meet with me five times this semester. My 10am appointment was in the writing center waiting for me when I arrived at 9:55. Quiet little boy from China. I tried to get him to think of ideas for his essay--it was like pulling teeth: "What were some of the differences between your school in China and your school here?" Shrug. Mumble with pen in mouth. "Nothing." "No differences? None? You ate the same food? Played the same games at recess? Studied the same subjects?" Shrug. Mumble with pen in mouth. Leg jiggle. "I guess." Me: discreet look at wall clock.

Salisbury is fine but there are not many Graduate students here. My Educational Research class is full of Masters students--but Masters in Education. They are all blond kindergarten teachers who are married. (No, I do not consider myself a blond. I don't know what color I would call my hair. Not-Blond, maybe. I'm sure that's a legitimate color.) There are about six guys in the class--all steroided phys-ed teachers. Sandy blond.

Then there are my two language/linguistic classes. I am one of about two grad students in each class (combined grad/undergrad classes). And so far, I have managed to piss off all the members of my Language and Culture class. The class is from 7pm to 9:45pm. We were already running a little late by 9:30 and the prof asked up if we wanted to start a video that we ought to have finished by that evening. I was like, hell yeah. Lets knock out fifteen minutes of that puppy. And for some odd reason, this really annoyed the rest of the class. Go figure. I mean, go home at 9:30, go home at 9:45--it's all the same. But anyway, there goes friendship potential for that class.

So poor little me, all friend-less in Salisbury. Hm. Probably doesn't help that I am a super-big nerd. Maybe if I were more cool I would have friends. But I'm actually quite comfortable with my super-nerdyness. Actually, I brought all my oboe reed stuff from my Dad's place this weekend. With all that time that I am not socializing, I can be working on my oboe. Yes, the time has finally arrived: I am coming off my oboe sabbitical. Yea! This is truly an exciting time for music groups in need of an oboist! (And believe me, there are a lot of them out there.)


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