One of you
Dear Diary,
Another hectic day. Psy came over to my apartment last night, but it took him forever to arrive. The poor guy sees his last patient at 8:30 p.m. and does not make it to the Upper West Side until 9:30 p.m. I had gone to the supermarket in the meantime and got generic brand rice krispies of all things. They certainly bring back childhood memories.
I paid bills online and then Psy arrived and we chatted and watched TV ("Neverwood" or "Everwood" or whatever it is called on the WB; I like the teenage guy in it).
Psy passed out from exhaustion and I finished paying bills. Then I got an e-mail from Prof. Rena, the one who coordinates internships, telling me that indeed it was too late to apply for one but that I should look for her today to discuss this further. I was like, "How am I supposed to fall asleep now after reading this?" But I tried to keep the doomsday thoughts at bay and went to sleep, reading an interesting book on weaving I borrowed from the library (all the weaving books seem to be from 1977). I feel like it must take a lifetime to learn weaving and its tricks and techniques, and I simply do not have the time, although I have mastered a lot of knitting techniques since I learned to knit three years ago, so I should think positively...
This morning I took the subway at 8:30 a.m. but it was incredibly slow and made it to school at 9:05 (classes start at 9:10). The printmaking prof is a real jerk, who last week locked the door to the classroom at 9:10, leaving students outside while he lectured and reopened the door afterwards. I'm going to call this guy Prof. Asshat. So there I am, running to my locker, which is on the opposite end of the school, retrieving the woodcut block, my enormous newsprint pad, my ArtBin, as well as my rolling backpack and a tube of paper, and running back to class. I made it on time. Phew.
Asshat showed us how to cut matting boards and I cut a dark gray one for the color print I made, and a black one for the black & white print of Mila.
All the girls in this class are in their fifth semester (it was funny, because I asked them, "are you guys in your junior year?" and they looked at me as if I was speaking in Chinese. One of them said, "Uhm, I don't know about that, but we're in our fifth semester.") I asked them if they had done internships, and this sweet Philipino girl told me she did, at a design studio, but that she hated it: they would use her as a messenger to deliver prints all over Seventh Ave. and they would give her designs to paint with flat paint. They offered her a job at $10/hr when the job was over, but she did not take it. She said the owner of the studio kept telling her not to study textile design, that there is no future in it, and that she should instead get an MBA.
"So," I asked, "Do you know of anyone who actually enjoyed her internship."
"No," was the answer.
Maybe I am not missing anything by not doing an internship.
In any event, I had to talk to Prof. Rena, so I ran out of class at 11:30 a.m. and who do I run into on the hallway but Prof. Tootsie, from last semester. I was actually happy to see her, and she said, "Oh, I was just talking to Rena about you, I see you are in the one-year program, and she told me you missed the deadline for the winter internship!"
I told her it was so, but changed the subject and told her, "I was looking for you, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
She smiled and said, "Any time. Just come and see me during office hours."
"Well," I continued, "I wanted to tell you that you are the wisest woman on earth." This sounded awkward, and indeed she looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Remember you told me to take the decorative fabrics class that meets twice a week instead of once a week? Well, I was going to do that, but the chairperson of the dept. told me not to, because I needed to stay with the one-year program. But I find that you were right, and I think of you every time I am in that class!"
Prof. Tootsie gave me a knowing smile and said, "Yes, that professor [who I call Miss Love] does not know how to manage time, and 25 students is more than she can handle."
"Exactly!" I said. "I have to wait forever to come to my desk and look at my work, and I feel like we are way behind."
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," she continued, "but she has the strangest sense of color; her color is not strong, be careful with that, although you should not have any problem."
Anyway, we continued chatting about this and then she asked me to bring the work I did last semester because she wants to prepare a display of our work, so tomorrow I will bring her the morning glories, the octopi, and the carnations. She also said she had been thinking about me because she is an expert witness in a copyright infringement suit.
I find now that I like this woman a lot better than I did when I was taking her class... Now I appreciate her no-nonsense approach to things. And also keep in mind that she is the woman who patented putting prints on diapers, so she is a sort of genius (even though she can be petty and gossipy: witness how she badmouthed Miss Love). Dragon Lady may not respond to my admiration, but at least Prof. Tootsie does, and I may find a better mentor in her...
After this encounter, I ran in to see Prof. Rena, who confirmed it was too late to apply for the winter internship, but asked me to turn in an application for the spring. I will do that, which requires that I reinvent my resume. Although I am concerned about the quality of internships that this woman puts together... But like I've said before, I have to try it to see if the rumors are true.
I am glad I am writing all this down, because I honestly blocked out everything that happened in law school.
I am at the law firm until 7 p.m., but for a change, I feel safe here, because this represents certainty and something I know. I walk along the gray corridors and I really feel protected and insulated from the outside world; I look at the fellow attorneys in their pinstripe trousers and pressed dress shirts and I yell out internally, "I am one of you!"
[Which actually brings me to a note left this morning in my OD by my French reader... she basically attributes my forgetfulness to the fact that I really do not desire the things I want. I think it has more to do with wanting everything, but "you cannot have it all."]
Another hectic day. Psy came over to my apartment last night, but it took him forever to arrive. The poor guy sees his last patient at 8:30 p.m. and does not make it to the Upper West Side until 9:30 p.m. I had gone to the supermarket in the meantime and got generic brand rice krispies of all things. They certainly bring back childhood memories.
I paid bills online and then Psy arrived and we chatted and watched TV ("Neverwood" or "Everwood" or whatever it is called on the WB; I like the teenage guy in it).
Psy passed out from exhaustion and I finished paying bills. Then I got an e-mail from Prof. Rena, the one who coordinates internships, telling me that indeed it was too late to apply for one but that I should look for her today to discuss this further. I was like, "How am I supposed to fall asleep now after reading this?" But I tried to keep the doomsday thoughts at bay and went to sleep, reading an interesting book on weaving I borrowed from the library (all the weaving books seem to be from 1977). I feel like it must take a lifetime to learn weaving and its tricks and techniques, and I simply do not have the time, although I have mastered a lot of knitting techniques since I learned to knit three years ago, so I should think positively...
This morning I took the subway at 8:30 a.m. but it was incredibly slow and made it to school at 9:05 (classes start at 9:10). The printmaking prof is a real jerk, who last week locked the door to the classroom at 9:10, leaving students outside while he lectured and reopened the door afterwards. I'm going to call this guy Prof. Asshat. So there I am, running to my locker, which is on the opposite end of the school, retrieving the woodcut block, my enormous newsprint pad, my ArtBin, as well as my rolling backpack and a tube of paper, and running back to class. I made it on time. Phew.
Asshat showed us how to cut matting boards and I cut a dark gray one for the color print I made, and a black one for the black & white print of Mila.
All the girls in this class are in their fifth semester (it was funny, because I asked them, "are you guys in your junior year?" and they looked at me as if I was speaking in Chinese. One of them said, "Uhm, I don't know about that, but we're in our fifth semester.") I asked them if they had done internships, and this sweet Philipino girl told me she did, at a design studio, but that she hated it: they would use her as a messenger to deliver prints all over Seventh Ave. and they would give her designs to paint with flat paint. They offered her a job at $10/hr when the job was over, but she did not take it. She said the owner of the studio kept telling her not to study textile design, that there is no future in it, and that she should instead get an MBA.
"So," I asked, "Do you know of anyone who actually enjoyed her internship."
"No," was the answer.
Maybe I am not missing anything by not doing an internship.
In any event, I had to talk to Prof. Rena, so I ran out of class at 11:30 a.m. and who do I run into on the hallway but Prof. Tootsie, from last semester. I was actually happy to see her, and she said, "Oh, I was just talking to Rena about you, I see you are in the one-year program, and she told me you missed the deadline for the winter internship!"
I told her it was so, but changed the subject and told her, "I was looking for you, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
She smiled and said, "Any time. Just come and see me during office hours."
"Well," I continued, "I wanted to tell you that you are the wisest woman on earth." This sounded awkward, and indeed she looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Remember you told me to take the decorative fabrics class that meets twice a week instead of once a week? Well, I was going to do that, but the chairperson of the dept. told me not to, because I needed to stay with the one-year program. But I find that you were right, and I think of you every time I am in that class!"
Prof. Tootsie gave me a knowing smile and said, "Yes, that professor [who I call Miss Love] does not know how to manage time, and 25 students is more than she can handle."
"Exactly!" I said. "I have to wait forever to come to my desk and look at my work, and I feel like we are way behind."
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," she continued, "but she has the strangest sense of color; her color is not strong, be careful with that, although you should not have any problem."
Anyway, we continued chatting about this and then she asked me to bring the work I did last semester because she wants to prepare a display of our work, so tomorrow I will bring her the morning glories, the octopi, and the carnations. She also said she had been thinking about me because she is an expert witness in a copyright infringement suit.
I find now that I like this woman a lot better than I did when I was taking her class... Now I appreciate her no-nonsense approach to things. And also keep in mind that she is the woman who patented putting prints on diapers, so she is a sort of genius (even though she can be petty and gossipy: witness how she badmouthed Miss Love). Dragon Lady may not respond to my admiration, but at least Prof. Tootsie does, and I may find a better mentor in her...
After this encounter, I ran in to see Prof. Rena, who confirmed it was too late to apply for the winter internship, but asked me to turn in an application for the spring. I will do that, which requires that I reinvent my resume. Although I am concerned about the quality of internships that this woman puts together... But like I've said before, I have to try it to see if the rumors are true.
I am glad I am writing all this down, because I honestly blocked out everything that happened in law school.
I am at the law firm until 7 p.m., but for a change, I feel safe here, because this represents certainty and something I know. I walk along the gray corridors and I really feel protected and insulated from the outside world; I look at the fellow attorneys in their pinstripe trousers and pressed dress shirts and I yell out internally, "I am one of you!"
[Which actually brings me to a note left this morning in my OD by my French reader... she basically attributes my forgetfulness to the fact that I really do not desire the things I want. I think it has more to do with wanting everything, but "you cannot have it all."]