Articles Archive for 17 August 2004
I’m going back to school in two weeks. It’s just part-time, taking two classes a semester at Hunter College, for my masters in history.
First, I have to say that the odds are greatly stacked against me actually finishing the program and getting my degree. That is, unless grad school is like college, in which case I should be fine. If I can get drunk five nights a week, get high on Tuesday afternoons, hook up or try to hook up with all my female friends and thus alienate them, make up nicknames for girls we hang out with (Pale Horse, Somethin’ Ain’t Right, Meshuggeneh Diane, etc), get thrown out of housing (twice), get sued (once), and generally rabble-rouse, then Dean’s List here I come!
But I don’t think this is actually the case, and I’m learning this more each day. I’m registering tomorrow, and today I spoke with the head of the graduate advising in history.
Professor: “So, which courses are you considering taking?”
Me: “Well, I’m definitely going to take the Russian one, because I’ve become obsessed with Russia.”
Prof: [Silence]
Me: “Um, and then I don’t know which other one. Could you recommend another to me?”
Prof: “All of the courses are excellent, but in your case I would recommend either Legal History or Metternich and the 1848 Revolutions.”
Me: “Ok, those both sound pretty good. Which one, you know, is a lesser course load?”
Prof: “I’m sorry?”
Me: “You know, which one, you know, do you think would be easier?”
Prof: [Silence for three seconds] “Jason, as your advisor, I would advise you against taking courses based on level of difficulty and instead take them because you are interested in them and you think they will make you a more complete historian.”
Me: “Oh, I know. I totally understand, and I agree with you totally about the ‘complete historian’ thing. But I’m equally interested in both classes, and I need a tie-breaker.”
Prof: [Silence]
Me: “Give me the Legal History.”
And the thing is, I’m not even sure why I’m doing it. Well, that’s not true – it’s because it’s a new way to meet women. I’ve exhausted everything else and I have to go back to where I had the most success: college. Bars, work, subways, alleys, shelters – I can’t find a decent (read: relenting but not deceased) woman anywhere.
I had looked at other schools, but the only two that I found that offer a part-time liberal arts history degree were Hunter and Harvard, and Harvard’s wasn’t a real degree (swear – also I’d have to move to Boston, also I’ve have to get in). But another justification is that it’s cheap: since I’m an NYC resident, the whole degree (if I complete it), will be about a third of year’s tuition at a private institution. So I’m not straddling myself with any debt, which is nice, because you know, I need that money for pot and BBQ products.
But I’ve been sort of ambivalent about the whole thing until today, when I had to go to the school to get my immunization forms filled out.
A note about this: the doctor’s office which had had my immunizations records was flooded, and the records were destroyed. Since then, I’ve been on a wild-goose chase, contacting every doctor I’ve ever been to, my high school, my college, the paparazzi – anyone to find these records. I don’t understand why the people in Health Services at Hunter can’t just take my word for it – I have been immunized. What is this, a third world country? I grew up in Philly, not fucking Zimbabwe. Pricks.
Anyway (let’s try to wrap it up here, because this was supposed to be short), I went up to the “campus” today and holy smokes – it’s like a real college! Sure, it’s in the middle of Manhattan, but there were students, most importantly, young women, strolling around the area, talking on cell phones, listening to music, carrying books – all waiting for me, practically begging me, to come into their lives and weird them the fuck out! I mean, they were everywhere! It was truly glorious.
So now, I am psyched about going back to school. I look forward to getting a nice little freshman girlfriend, who I can help with her history homework and give lots of money to, in exchange for leaving me a few bras. And not to wear. Promise.
First, I have to say that the odds are greatly stacked against me actually finishing the program and getting my degree. That is, unless grad school is like college, in which case I should be fine. If I can get drunk five nights a week, get high on Tuesday afternoons, hook up or try to hook up with all my female friends and thus alienate them, make up nicknames for girls we hang out with (Pale Horse, Somethin’ Ain’t Right, Meshuggeneh Diane, etc), get thrown out of housing (twice), get sued (once), and generally rabble-rouse, then Dean’s List here I come!
But I don’t think this is actually the case, and I’m learning this more each day. I’m registering tomorrow, and today I spoke with the head of the graduate advising in history.
Professor: “So, which courses are you considering taking?”
Me: “Well, I’m definitely going to take the Russian one, because I’ve become obsessed with Russia.”
Prof: [Silence]
Me: “Um, and then I don’t know which other one. Could you recommend another to me?”
Prof: “All of the courses are excellent, but in your case I would recommend either Legal History or Metternich and the 1848 Revolutions.”
Me: “Ok, those both sound pretty good. Which one, you know, is a lesser course load?”
Prof: “I’m sorry?”
Me: “You know, which one, you know, do you think would be easier?”
Prof: [Silence for three seconds] “Jason, as your advisor, I would advise you against taking courses based on level of difficulty and instead take them because you are interested in them and you think they will make you a more complete historian.”
Me: “Oh, I know. I totally understand, and I agree with you totally about the ‘complete historian’ thing. But I’m equally interested in both classes, and I need a tie-breaker.”
Prof: [Silence]
Me: “Give me the Legal History.”
And the thing is, I’m not even sure why I’m doing it. Well, that’s not true – it’s because it’s a new way to meet women. I’ve exhausted everything else and I have to go back to where I had the most success: college. Bars, work, subways, alleys, shelters – I can’t find a decent (read: relenting but not deceased) woman anywhere.
I had looked at other schools, but the only two that I found that offer a part-time liberal arts history degree were Hunter and Harvard, and Harvard’s wasn’t a real degree (swear – also I’d have to move to Boston, also I’ve have to get in). But another justification is that it’s cheap: since I’m an NYC resident, the whole degree (if I complete it), will be about a third of year’s tuition at a private institution. So I’m not straddling myself with any debt, which is nice, because you know, I need that money for pot and BBQ products.
But I’ve been sort of ambivalent about the whole thing until today, when I had to go to the school to get my immunization forms filled out.
A note about this: the doctor’s office which had had my immunizations records was flooded, and the records were destroyed. Since then, I’ve been on a wild-goose chase, contacting every doctor I’ve ever been to, my high school, my college, the paparazzi – anyone to find these records. I don’t understand why the people in Health Services at Hunter can’t just take my word for it – I have been immunized. What is this, a third world country? I grew up in Philly, not fucking Zimbabwe. Pricks.
Anyway (let’s try to wrap it up here, because this was supposed to be short), I went up to the “campus” today and holy smokes – it’s like a real college! Sure, it’s in the middle of Manhattan, but there were students, most importantly, young women, strolling around the area, talking on cell phones, listening to music, carrying books – all waiting for me, practically begging me, to come into their lives and weird them the fuck out! I mean, they were everywhere! It was truly glorious.
So now, I am psyched about going back to school. I look forward to getting a nice little freshman girlfriend, who I can help with her history homework and give lots of money to, in exchange for leaving me a few bras. And not to wear. Promise.
1) I had to wait four full minutes this morning for my elevator in my building. Four minutes is a long, long time, especially when you’re tired as a mother fucker and depressed, since you tried beating off in the shower but had to stop half-way through, because it just wasn’t working. Not the best way to start the day.
2) Blind people on the subway terrify me. Like most people, I share that “who’s going to help them” awkwardness as they slowly try to enter and exit the train. And I feel terrible for feeling this way, but I can’t help it. Second, I also feel like they going to just fucking walk right off the edge of the platform and fall onto the tracks, without realizing what they’re doing. I mean, this could happen – they can’t see shit!
If I ever become blind, I would just sit home all day and smoke pot, and be the most lazy person in the world. Sure, being blind sucks, but it’s an excuse to do absolutely nothing for anyone but yourself for the rest of your life. And sure, that’s pretty much what I’m doing now, but I bet it’d be a lot more acceptable if I couldn’t see.
3) I can not stress this enough: I do NOT like to talk to people on the subway. It’s not personal, it’s just that that’s my time to be alone and get myself ready for another disappointing day. This applies to everyone – my roommate Ben and I, since we work in the same place, often commute in the morning on the same train, without speaking to each other the entire time.
So if you see me, say hello, and move on. I still love you, but I’m just really, really weird in the morning.
4) [This is left-over from the weekend, but I noticed it on the subway this morning too] As I’ve noted before, I am a sucker for lip gloss. I am also a sucker for girls who can dance, especially when they’re tan. Add another thing to the list: hoop earrings. I know, I know – they can be trashy, but you’re forgetting – I love trashy. Maybe it’s because I grew up in South Philly (zing! to all the South Philly girls reading) but I don’t know; I think hoop earrings are very, very hot. Call me crazy, call me racist, but that’s just how I feel.
[I should note that this is the only post I've ever put up that when spell-checked had zero mistakes. To give you an idea of how I'm doing, this is definitely going to be the highlight of my day, barring sexual intercourse with a hoop earring-wearing girl on the subway ride home.]
2) Blind people on the subway terrify me. Like most people, I share that “who’s going to help them” awkwardness as they slowly try to enter and exit the train. And I feel terrible for feeling this way, but I can’t help it. Second, I also feel like they going to just fucking walk right off the edge of the platform and fall onto the tracks, without realizing what they’re doing. I mean, this could happen – they can’t see shit!
If I ever become blind, I would just sit home all day and smoke pot, and be the most lazy person in the world. Sure, being blind sucks, but it’s an excuse to do absolutely nothing for anyone but yourself for the rest of your life. And sure, that’s pretty much what I’m doing now, but I bet it’d be a lot more acceptable if I couldn’t see.
3) I can not stress this enough: I do NOT like to talk to people on the subway. It’s not personal, it’s just that that’s my time to be alone and get myself ready for another disappointing day. This applies to everyone – my roommate Ben and I, since we work in the same place, often commute in the morning on the same train, without speaking to each other the entire time.
So if you see me, say hello, and move on. I still love you, but I’m just really, really weird in the morning.
4) [This is left-over from the weekend, but I noticed it on the subway this morning too] As I’ve noted before, I am a sucker for lip gloss. I am also a sucker for girls who can dance, especially when they’re tan. Add another thing to the list: hoop earrings. I know, I know – they can be trashy, but you’re forgetting – I love trashy. Maybe it’s because I grew up in South Philly (zing! to all the South Philly girls reading) but I don’t know; I think hoop earrings are very, very hot. Call me crazy, call me racist, but that’s just how I feel.
[I should note that this is the only post I've ever put up that when spell-checked had zero mistakes. To give you an idea of how I'm doing, this is definitely going to be the highlight of my day, barring sexual intercourse with a hoop earring-wearing girl on the subway ride home.]