stand me up at the gates of hell
St. George then looking round about,
The fiery dragon soon espy'd,
And like a knight of courage stout,
Against him did most furiously ride;
And with such blows he did him greet,
He fell beneath his horse's feet.
For with his launce that was so strong,
As he came gaping in his face,
In at his mouth he thrust along;
For he could pierce no other place:
And thus within the lady's view
This mighty dragon straight he slew.
-Anonymous, Old English
Okay, yes, a slight exaggeration.
All three applications are in and paid for, with their fiendishly peculiar personal statements. The GRE reports are ordered. The transcripts are ordered and waiting for a consent form to wing their way down from Garden Street. All's done except a few bits of extraneous paperwork, and the recommendations, and the recommenders are three people who I trust intensely not to let me down. (I have good family, friends and colleagues, whom I don't praise nearly enough. So, I praise them. And praise them again.)
(Funny dangling modifier that I fortunately noticed before I sent in the essay: "Those books, magazines, and ephemeral audio-visual media that might have been lost to future researchers when they physically disintegrated will now be available for years to come." Yeah, needed to rearrange that one a bit, given all the physically disintegrating academics I've met in my life.)
Now I can stop freaking out about it all, wait for what happens to happen. And kill time by obsessing over the hundreth episode of CM and writing all the fic-bunnies that are pestering me.
ROWR. I HAVE SLAIN THE DRAGON. FEAR ME. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land.
The fiery dragon soon espy'd,
And like a knight of courage stout,
Against him did most furiously ride;
And with such blows he did him greet,
He fell beneath his horse's feet.
For with his launce that was so strong,
As he came gaping in his face,
In at his mouth he thrust along;
For he could pierce no other place:
And thus within the lady's view
This mighty dragon straight he slew.
-Anonymous, Old English
Okay, yes, a slight exaggeration.
All three applications are in and paid for, with their fiendishly peculiar personal statements. The GRE reports are ordered. The transcripts are ordered and waiting for a consent form to wing their way down from Garden Street. All's done except a few bits of extraneous paperwork, and the recommendations, and the recommenders are three people who I trust intensely not to let me down. (I have good family, friends and colleagues, whom I don't praise nearly enough. So, I praise them. And praise them again.)
(Funny dangling modifier that I fortunately noticed before I sent in the essay: "Those books, magazines, and ephemeral audio-visual media that might have been lost to future researchers when they physically disintegrated will now be available for years to come." Yeah, needed to rearrange that one a bit, given all the physically disintegrating academics I've met in my life.)
Now I can stop freaking out about it all, wait for what happens to happen. And kill time by obsessing over the hundreth episode of CM and writing all the fic-bunnies that are pestering me.
ROWR. I HAVE SLAIN THE DRAGON. FEAR ME. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land.