(no subject)
Hello! Well, it’s certainly been ages, hasn’t it? It’s a wonder I remember how to post an entry.
I made it out of college alive! Things got a little sketchy toward the end: the powers that be hung a heap of strangulation hazards around my neck, put my name on the list of a couple mysterious societies (some with downright invasive handshakes), and said things about me behind my back in Latin (curses? I don’t know. Could have meant anything, really). But I made it, and it feels like far more of an accomplishment than I was expecting.
Because Skidmore has the most wonderfully unregimented graduation line-up I have ever heard of, I got to walk across the stage to receive my diploma between Rob and Scott, the two people who have meant the most to me in college. And we were part of string of everyone from my house and everyone from Rob’s house-pretty much the people I’ve known best at Skidmore. Somehow much more symbolic and satisfying than alphabetical order.
Before graduation, the seniors had a week of time left to their own devices--or more accurately, vices. For most, it meant getting drunk and staying drunk-probably to counteract the sobering realization that they will most likely rarely see any of the incredible (and even the not so incredible but still somehow important) friends they made over the past four years. It was this way for me, too, at least if you replace “getting drunk and staying drunk” with “playing videogames and then, um, playing more videogames.”
This week followed a semester of phenomenal classes that made me painfully conscious of how much I have to miss out in the real world. Even though they may have deprived me of much promise of a social life and kept me functioning at a stress level my mind and body couldn't quite withstand, I loved Queer Fictions, American Environmental History, and Children's Literature (education perspective, not literary). Part of me is glad to be done having classes all day and homework enough to last into the wee hours of the night with no time to take a breath (not if I’m going to get everything done as best I can, anyway), but part of me is uncertain that I want to be anything but a student in the most traditional, academic sense, ever.
I wrote my senior capstone paper on The Well of Loneliness, a novel my second-reader quite astutely described as “a hot mess.” By the end of the project, I swore I would never write a word of literary criticism again in my life, and I was fully convinced of that until about three days later when I got comments back from my professors, who thought my analysis was pure gold. As always, I am a whore for praise, particularly praise I’m sure I don’t deserve.
Grad school is a vague aspiration for the future since I discovered that master’s programs in children’s literature, children’s publishing, and children’s fiction-writing all exist. But for now it’s (hopefully) valuable real world career experience time!
Tomorrow (I can’t believe it’s so soon, but yes, really, tomorrow!) I’m moving to New York City for the summer. I have an internship in Manhattan doing editorial work for the Jewish Book Council. I keep getting raised eyebrows over this for some reason, and all right, maybe I am about as goy as you get, BUT the people are friendly, the work sounds great, I’ve been promised a plethora of helpful contacts, and I am beyond excited. Plus, a rabbi taught me how to make some might tasty vegan challah, so if all else fails and I’m forced to resort to bribery: culturally-specific baked goods!
I’m subletting a room in Brooklyn, and I’ll be sharing an apartment with two other twenty-something girls. I know very little about them except that 1) their wireless network is named “Valley Girls” AND 2) they seem very nice and put-together from our conversations, so perhaps 1) is meant to be ironic?
I’m also hoping (perhaps too optimistically considering the job market? We shall see…) to pick up additional part time work for pay somewhere closer to my apartment. So until I start the internship on the 7th, I’ll be dashing around to various small businesses, begging anyone who will listen to hire the overeducated likes of me for minimum wage, hurrah!
I’d like to be more internet-present over the summer, and I imagine I'll be more or less successful with that depending on how much of my mental capacity work and possibly more work end up demanding. I’m not sure, however, what form this presence should take. What are the cool kids doing these days, hmm?
I made it out of college alive! Things got a little sketchy toward the end: the powers that be hung a heap of strangulation hazards around my neck, put my name on the list of a couple mysterious societies (some with downright invasive handshakes), and said things about me behind my back in Latin (curses? I don’t know. Could have meant anything, really). But I made it, and it feels like far more of an accomplishment than I was expecting.
Because Skidmore has the most wonderfully unregimented graduation line-up I have ever heard of, I got to walk across the stage to receive my diploma between Rob and Scott, the two people who have meant the most to me in college. And we were part of string of everyone from my house and everyone from Rob’s house-pretty much the people I’ve known best at Skidmore. Somehow much more symbolic and satisfying than alphabetical order.
Before graduation, the seniors had a week of time left to their own devices--or more accurately, vices. For most, it meant getting drunk and staying drunk-probably to counteract the sobering realization that they will most likely rarely see any of the incredible (and even the not so incredible but still somehow important) friends they made over the past four years. It was this way for me, too, at least if you replace “getting drunk and staying drunk” with “playing videogames and then, um, playing more videogames.”
This week followed a semester of phenomenal classes that made me painfully conscious of how much I have to miss out in the real world. Even though they may have deprived me of much promise of a social life and kept me functioning at a stress level my mind and body couldn't quite withstand, I loved Queer Fictions, American Environmental History, and Children's Literature (education perspective, not literary). Part of me is glad to be done having classes all day and homework enough to last into the wee hours of the night with no time to take a breath (not if I’m going to get everything done as best I can, anyway), but part of me is uncertain that I want to be anything but a student in the most traditional, academic sense, ever.
I wrote my senior capstone paper on The Well of Loneliness, a novel my second-reader quite astutely described as “a hot mess.” By the end of the project, I swore I would never write a word of literary criticism again in my life, and I was fully convinced of that until about three days later when I got comments back from my professors, who thought my analysis was pure gold. As always, I am a whore for praise, particularly praise I’m sure I don’t deserve.
Grad school is a vague aspiration for the future since I discovered that master’s programs in children’s literature, children’s publishing, and children’s fiction-writing all exist. But for now it’s (hopefully) valuable real world career experience time!
Tomorrow (I can’t believe it’s so soon, but yes, really, tomorrow!) I’m moving to New York City for the summer. I have an internship in Manhattan doing editorial work for the Jewish Book Council. I keep getting raised eyebrows over this for some reason, and all right, maybe I am about as goy as you get, BUT the people are friendly, the work sounds great, I’ve been promised a plethora of helpful contacts, and I am beyond excited. Plus, a rabbi taught me how to make some might tasty vegan challah, so if all else fails and I’m forced to resort to bribery: culturally-specific baked goods!
I’m subletting a room in Brooklyn, and I’ll be sharing an apartment with two other twenty-something girls. I know very little about them except that 1) their wireless network is named “Valley Girls” AND 2) they seem very nice and put-together from our conversations, so perhaps 1) is meant to be ironic?
I’m also hoping (perhaps too optimistically considering the job market? We shall see…) to pick up additional part time work for pay somewhere closer to my apartment. So until I start the internship on the 7th, I’ll be dashing around to various small businesses, begging anyone who will listen to hire the overeducated likes of me for minimum wage, hurrah!
I’d like to be more internet-present over the summer, and I imagine I'll be more or less successful with that depending on how much of my mental capacity work and possibly more work end up demanding. I’m not sure, however, what form this presence should take. What are the cool kids doing these days, hmm?