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That's a metaphorical sploosh, thank goodness. It's me getting my feet wet and trying to write the first draft of a ten-page paper in French. I keep having to remind myself that writing it in English and translating it is a Very Bad Idea. If I do that, it will be twice as much work as it should be, and I won't be able to translate some of it exactly the way I want it. I also have to keep reminding myself that this paper is due before the ten-page Theory of Translation paper, which I actually want to write. Not only is that one in English, but I'm interested in what I'm writing about.
Apparently it went *sploosh* for real in Boston yesterday.
I'm considering, depending on whether my parents think it's a terrible idea, borrowing another $6700 from the bank to pay rent with. I really don't want to move from where I am, and I don't want to be sleeping under a bridge in November. (OK, it wouldn't get to that, but that's where my brain keeps going.) That amount would give me rent until next October, by which time I plan to have a graduate assistantship. I really missed out by not getting one this year. I have, for all practical purposes, no income and too much free time. (Yeah, I know, whaddya mean "too much free time"?)
The song currently playing is Joshua Kadison's "Postcards From L.A." I haven't listened to it since I was in the "what if" dreaming stage about getting into grad school and what would happen if I did. Back then I thought about it in the abstract, and thought about leaving people behind and leaving everything familiar and comfortable to go chasing a dream, and I wished I had that to think about. And then when it happened, it happened so fast that I barely had time to think about it at all. I keep looking around and realizing there are things I don't have here because I was in such a hurry packing that I forgot them (like my glass pie plate).
I still don't know if I'm going to be able to go to CT for Thanksgiving. If I can't, I'll definitely go for Christmas, and see about swinging up through Boston for Arisia. Somebody's timing is incredible; classes start again the Monday after Arisia weekend, so I could be in Boston until Sunday if I wanted. I can't remember if I did enough work last year to have my fees waived. It would be nice if I did.
Damn it, now I miss everybody again.
Apparently it went *sploosh* for real in Boston yesterday.
I'm considering, depending on whether my parents think it's a terrible idea, borrowing another $6700 from the bank to pay rent with. I really don't want to move from where I am, and I don't want to be sleeping under a bridge in November. (OK, it wouldn't get to that, but that's where my brain keeps going.) That amount would give me rent until next October, by which time I plan to have a graduate assistantship. I really missed out by not getting one this year. I have, for all practical purposes, no income and too much free time. (Yeah, I know, whaddya mean "too much free time"?)
The song currently playing is Joshua Kadison's "Postcards From L.A." I haven't listened to it since I was in the "what if" dreaming stage about getting into grad school and what would happen if I did. Back then I thought about it in the abstract, and thought about leaving people behind and leaving everything familiar and comfortable to go chasing a dream, and I wished I had that to think about. And then when it happened, it happened so fast that I barely had time to think about it at all. I keep looking around and realizing there are things I don't have here because I was in such a hurry packing that I forgot them (like my glass pie plate).
I still don't know if I'm going to be able to go to CT for Thanksgiving. If I can't, I'll definitely go for Christmas, and see about swinging up through Boston for Arisia. Somebody's timing is incredible; classes start again the Monday after Arisia weekend, so I could be in Boston until Sunday if I wanted. I can't remember if I did enough work last year to have my fees waived. It would be nice if I did.
Damn it, now I miss everybody again.
