Thursday was a mess of a day that started at 6:40AM. But it really started the night before, when Mother roused me from sleep (via phone) to ask if I had put myself on the do-not-call registry. For mothers? No. But there ought to be one.
There was breakfast spent looking out at hostile, honking cars, a treacherous commute through which ice splattered down as I walked and our bus backed up through 4 blocks and onto traffic, the classes, the strange, voluntary visit to the PhD core course, an additional 2-hour lecture on research methods to end the day. Luckily, the lecture, led by the head of the admissions committee, a bona fide Walty doppelganger, wasn't uncomfortable at all. Especially when he made a joke about admitting grad students on chance as Laura and me looked aghast. The day culminated with me bolting from the lecture early and a dramatic running through the icy cobblestones of Harvard Square at rush hour to make sure I could get to Esther's apartment in time for my phone interview.
But something strange happened once I got to Esther's. The place was toasty. I got there with just 2 minutes to spare but they had already set everything up, a glass of water, a nice notepad, a quiet panic room and land line. The talk went well and afterward, I invited myself for dinner. The mess of the day drained away and all that was left was good food, school talk, and easy laughs about man dates. A much better way to spend the day than watching depressing relationship drama in an arty theater. Especially the part where I get a free dinner by asking.
---
(on choosing grad students)
Doctoral student: At a certain point, there's only so much awesome you can be.
Walty-ganger: You'd be surprised.
Laura et moi: ... ... ...
No comments:
Post a Comment