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I want to write for the rest of my life
Sep. 24th, 2007 12:33 pmDespite the excitement of my pending House!cation, I've actually been really productive this morning. I think it's the idea that I'm going to be out of the office for two whole days (which, in the advertising world, is like two months, given the amount of crisis projects and emergencies that could feasibly crop up) and I need to tidy my projects into neat, five-by-five packages of done-ness before I head out.
Tomorrow is going to twofold exciting: not only is it House premiere day, but I'm also heading over to the Office of Continuing Studies to turn in my check and registration for the GRE prep course that starts in mid-October. That's $430 in the can, which will cut a significant swath out of my checking account, but will hopefully tender a great score and a place for me in the graduate studies program.
I can't tell you how excited I am about the prospect of going back to school. I love school. And going back to school so I can, in turn, go back to school for the rest of my life? Ngghh. My mom and I were talking this weekend and she thinks it's fantastic. She's always hoped that I'd eventually go into teaching and knew, just by the construct of my personality, that I'd be better teaching at the college level than any other age. I told her that it's my ambition to get my PhD, move somewhere east, buy one of those large, creaky houses with eaves and awnings (and its fair share of history, right down to the secret passageways between the walls, accessible only through the copy of Crime & Punishment on the upstairs bookcase) and teach at a small private college. On Saturday mornings I'd teach a colloquium on Wodehouse, and on Sundays I'd get up at noon, read the paper in a bathrobe or baggy cableknit sweater, and then cubby myself away in the upstairs office to work on my novel-in-progress (because every professor at a small, private college is working on a novel that will change the course of literary history). There's even room for a large, shaggy dog in there somewhere.
But, of course, I've gotta' pace myself. Getting my master's is priority one, you know, before I start picking for property in Pittsburgh.
I have the nerdiest fantasies for myself.
Tomorrow is going to twofold exciting: not only is it House premiere day, but I'm also heading over to the Office of Continuing Studies to turn in my check and registration for the GRE prep course that starts in mid-October. That's $430 in the can, which will cut a significant swath out of my checking account, but will hopefully tender a great score and a place for me in the graduate studies program.
I can't tell you how excited I am about the prospect of going back to school. I love school. And going back to school so I can, in turn, go back to school for the rest of my life? Ngghh. My mom and I were talking this weekend and she thinks it's fantastic. She's always hoped that I'd eventually go into teaching and knew, just by the construct of my personality, that I'd be better teaching at the college level than any other age. I told her that it's my ambition to get my PhD, move somewhere east, buy one of those large, creaky houses with eaves and awnings (and its fair share of history, right down to the secret passageways between the walls, accessible only through the copy of Crime & Punishment on the upstairs bookcase) and teach at a small private college. On Saturday mornings I'd teach a colloquium on Wodehouse, and on Sundays I'd get up at noon, read the paper in a bathrobe or baggy cableknit sweater, and then cubby myself away in the upstairs office to work on my novel-in-progress (because every professor at a small, private college is working on a novel that will change the course of literary history). There's even room for a large, shaggy dog in there somewhere.
But, of course, I've gotta' pace myself. Getting my master's is priority one, you know, before I start picking for property in Pittsburgh.
I have the nerdiest fantasies for myself.
