Despite my initial hesitation regarding the Latin-for-no-credit proposition, after my first day, I'm pretty sure it will be among the best things I experience all year. No, it's not because one lecture has converted me to an instant classics-lover (although, let's be honest, it's not out of the question). It's wholly and completely dependent on a certain professor by the name of Dr. Maxwell-Stuart.
Now, we've only just become acquainted, but I'm pretty sure that Dr. Maxwell-Stuart is most badass* professor I've ever encountered. I don't care what you say; nothing will ever top this man.
Evidence:
Let's be shallow for a moment, shall we?
- Full kilt attire. (On a side-note, it's rumoured that he goes "full Scotsman." If you don't know what it is, go look it up. But I, for one, am content to let rumour remain. There are some things my eyes will never need to see.)
-One gold hoop earring. Professor by day; pirate by night?
-Completely bald. With a very intriguing scar on his impressively shiny crown. Or maybe it's a wart, but as with the rumour, I don't intend to get close enough to find out.
Moving away from his totally EPIC appearance (right?!), I offer some quotes in support of Dr. M-S's inherent badassery.
-"Write down what I say."
...And thus commences a translation exercise after half a lecture. On the first day. For any student who remembers what "Syllabus Day" is like, I could rest my case here, but I will not.
-"Pedantry is my forte."
Terrifying from a man in an earring who's meant to be assessing your work.
-poorly paraphrased: If you do it my way, you'll likely be right. If you do it your way, you'll likely be wrong.
The man is nothing if not straightforward.
and of course,
-"English is a sledgehammer."
You gotta give him credit for saying this to room at least half full of people who intend to make English their career. Touche, sir.
And that, friends, was Day 1 in Postgraduate Beginner's Latin. I fully intend to keep a running log of priceless moments for your entertainment, as I'm sure they will be many.
*Note: Please don't be alarmed at my crude language. I would, however, like to cite the title as grounds for legitimising the use of swears...At least theoretically :)
Monday, September 26, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
suprise classes are my favourite!
I had rather a shock today when I found out that Latin is the unspoken requirement in the Medieaval Lit degree.
Suddenly my courses have gone from really manageable (1 on Monday, 2 on Thursday) to rather overwhelming (2 on Monday, 1 on Tuesday, 2 on Thursday...plus another one on Monday to start in week 8. YEAH.)
Also, Latin? Latin? I mean, if I stop to think about it, yeah, of course. Ya gotta have some Latin under your belt if you're not gonna take, say, Middle French. But they should definitely list that under the course requirements if they're going to "strongly suggest" upon arrival that you should take an extra course.
So, on the upside, this is really useful to all the things I'm going to study, and I'm very grateful for the opportunity--particularly the lack of extra cost.
On the downside, there is literally no way to do this degree without becoming totally and utterly useless to the real world.
Ivory tower, here I come!
Suddenly my courses have gone from really manageable (1 on Monday, 2 on Thursday) to rather overwhelming (2 on Monday, 1 on Tuesday, 2 on Thursday...plus another one on Monday to start in week 8. YEAH.)
Also, Latin? Latin? I mean, if I stop to think about it, yeah, of course. Ya gotta have some Latin under your belt if you're not gonna take, say, Middle French. But they should definitely list that under the course requirements if they're going to "strongly suggest" upon arrival that you should take an extra course.
So, on the upside, this is really useful to all the things I'm going to study, and I'm very grateful for the opportunity--particularly the lack of extra cost.
On the downside, there is literally no way to do this degree without becoming totally and utterly useless to the real world.
Ivory tower, here I come!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Today, my professor suggested I jump out a window.
Seriously, he did!
Not to worry, he was kidding. Heh, heh. Ah, British humour. It's one of the many things I ADORE about my programme. Ready for the rest?
-the size: 8 of us. well, and apparently 1 missing student. he never showed up today, and we're all wondering where he's hiding. on that note...
-the professors: all a little sarcastic. and they like to make jokes about hiding their students in cupboards, or suggesting they jump out of windows. still a little on the fence on how I feel about that.
-the COURSES. oh, I am so happy with my courses. more on this later, when I actually attend them.
-the total free reign we have in the English department. As postgrads, we can audit ANY class in the English department-- just show up and learn something. Could life be better?
-The location: across from a castle. I know this was new to me 2 years ago, but it's still frickin' cool.
-The amount of wine served at the Postgrad Party, hosted by the department. Enough said.
I think I'm going to enjoy this year.
Not to worry, he was kidding. Heh, heh. Ah, British humour. It's one of the many things I ADORE about my programme. Ready for the rest?
-the size: 8 of us. well, and apparently 1 missing student. he never showed up today, and we're all wondering where he's hiding. on that note...
-the professors: all a little sarcastic. and they like to make jokes about hiding their students in cupboards, or suggesting they jump out of windows. still a little on the fence on how I feel about that.
-the COURSES. oh, I am so happy with my courses. more on this later, when I actually attend them.
-the total free reign we have in the English department. As postgrads, we can audit ANY class in the English department-- just show up and learn something. Could life be better?
-The location: across from a castle. I know this was new to me 2 years ago, but it's still frickin' cool.
-The amount of wine served at the Postgrad Party, hosted by the department. Enough said.
I think I'm going to enjoy this year.
Monday, September 19, 2011
i resemble that remark.
Well, this evening I had dinner with a few friends, mostly as a vehicle for excellent banter and ribbing. Unfortunately, I kinda made it so that I had to receive the brunt of the ribbing. Want to find out why? Good, because here goes:
So we're prepping our meal-- chatting, stirrin' pots, and choppin' stuff. And I'm feeling really happy, and kinda grown up, to be preparing an actual meal with my friends (ie, not just pasta). I'm puzzling over my onion. Because it doesn't seem to want to slice. Try as I might, it just will. not. cooperate. So I'm bearing down with more enthusiasm and vigor...and apparently more stupidity, too, because I am chopping with the wrong end of the knife. So when my finger slips off the handle and onto the top of the blade, it turns out I'm slicing my fingertip open with a very, very sharp knife.
I've got a a few very choice words to say at that moment.
Which of course, gets my cooking buddy to turn around and ask what on earth I've done to myself. I hold up my bloody finger, and he goes running for a first aid kit.
He comes back with a first aid kit, and a helmet, offering to fix up my finger on the condition that I protect myself from further injury from now on.
The rest of our buddies come in to find me with a bandaged finger and a helmet on my head, sipping a glass of apple juice. So of course it's "Who let Christy near the sharp objects?" and "I can't leave you alone for 2 minutes!" and "Three days before an injury--it's gotta be a record!"
And that, friends, is why I love this place. Because the second I start to get a little sad over becoming a "grown up," these folks make me feel like I'm 5 years old again.
So we're prepping our meal-- chatting, stirrin' pots, and choppin' stuff. And I'm feeling really happy, and kinda grown up, to be preparing an actual meal with my friends (ie, not just pasta). I'm puzzling over my onion. Because it doesn't seem to want to slice. Try as I might, it just will. not. cooperate. So I'm bearing down with more enthusiasm and vigor...and apparently more stupidity, too, because I am chopping with the wrong end of the knife. So when my finger slips off the handle and onto the top of the blade, it turns out I'm slicing my fingertip open with a very, very sharp knife.
I've got a a few very choice words to say at that moment.
Which of course, gets my cooking buddy to turn around and ask what on earth I've done to myself. I hold up my bloody finger, and he goes running for a first aid kit.
He comes back with a first aid kit, and a helmet, offering to fix up my finger on the condition that I protect myself from further injury from now on.
The rest of our buddies come in to find me with a bandaged finger and a helmet on my head, sipping a glass of apple juice. So of course it's "Who let Christy near the sharp objects?" and "I can't leave you alone for 2 minutes!" and "Three days before an injury--it's gotta be a record!"
And that, friends, is why I love this place. Because the second I start to get a little sad over becoming a "grown up," these folks make me feel like I'm 5 years old again.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
i am inept at only the most vital stuff.
--like figuring out how the heck the heating in my flat works.
Try as I might, I can't figure out how to get the boiler to heat my flat / power the radiator in my room...without making horrible noises. I turned it on yesterday, and it sounded like Dobby the Elf had made his permanent residence in my cupboard under the stairs. And that he'd decided to pursue a career as a blacksmith.
So I've resigned myself to a chilly nose and lots of layers until my flatmate gets back and finishes moving in. Because maybe 2 idiots are better than one? Actually, she's doing a sciencey-degree, so maybe it's just the one idiot.
APART from that, however, MAN, is this flat incredible! I'm in this little postgraduate complex (so it kinda looks like a little courtyard full of condos) tucked away in town. But they're BEAUTIFUL. They're definitely newly furnished, and they look like they're newly built too- Lots of high ceilings and pretty windows. (Fun fact, I can see sort of into what I think might be a pub on an adjacent street. Unless somebody's got beer taps in their home. No judgment.) My room is tiny*, but it's just the right amount of space for little ol' me. I think my favorite room is the kitchen though-- big windows looking out on the common courtyard that gets sun in the afternoon (if there is any ;)) and a precious little table.
Other funny quirks include:
-the living room couch-- the only piece of furniture (or color, for that matter) AND it's comically small. I had my two 6'-something friends sit on it, and it looked a little absurd.
-what my flatmate and I have dubbed the "spare room"-- a room, separate from the living room with no furniture or decoration to speak of. [Currently taking polling my friends on what it should become, but they're mostly guys and keep suggesting a "man-cave"...nixed.]
-my showerless bathroom (there is a bath, thankfully. guess I'll just have to be a bit more leisurely when it comes to hygiene.)
-the downstairs bath that looks, from all outward appearances, like a sliding closet door.
And beyond my really wonderful flat, I've had a great time reconnecting with friends-- from getting picked up from the airport, to having an entourage to escort me/my luggage across town to my flat, to seeing a whole slew of them at a birthday party last night, to church this morning with a dear dear friend...plus a few new ones! :)
All in all, St. Andrews feels much more homey than I ever expected it would feel after being removed from it the last couple years. I am happy beyond my wildest happiness.
*retrospective edit: not tiny at all. it's actually HUGE compared to the closet that other univeristy-housed students get. It's just not huge compared to my flatmate's :)
Try as I might, I can't figure out how to get the boiler to heat my flat / power the radiator in my room...without making horrible noises. I turned it on yesterday, and it sounded like Dobby the Elf had made his permanent residence in my cupboard under the stairs. And that he'd decided to pursue a career as a blacksmith.
So I've resigned myself to a chilly nose and lots of layers until my flatmate gets back and finishes moving in. Because maybe 2 idiots are better than one? Actually, she's doing a sciencey-degree, so maybe it's just the one idiot.
APART from that, however, MAN, is this flat incredible! I'm in this little postgraduate complex (so it kinda looks like a little courtyard full of condos) tucked away in town. But they're BEAUTIFUL. They're definitely newly furnished, and they look like they're newly built too- Lots of high ceilings and pretty windows. (Fun fact, I can see sort of into what I think might be a pub on an adjacent street. Unless somebody's got beer taps in their home. No judgment.) My room is tiny*, but it's just the right amount of space for little ol' me. I think my favorite room is the kitchen though-- big windows looking out on the common courtyard that gets sun in the afternoon (if there is any ;)) and a precious little table.
Other funny quirks include:
-the living room couch-- the only piece of furniture (or color, for that matter) AND it's comically small. I had my two 6'-something friends sit on it, and it looked a little absurd.
-what my flatmate and I have dubbed the "spare room"-- a room, separate from the living room with no furniture or decoration to speak of. [Currently taking polling my friends on what it should become, but they're mostly guys and keep suggesting a "man-cave"...nixed.]
-my showerless bathroom (there is a bath, thankfully. guess I'll just have to be a bit more leisurely when it comes to hygiene.)
-the downstairs bath that looks, from all outward appearances, like a sliding closet door.
And beyond my really wonderful flat, I've had a great time reconnecting with friends-- from getting picked up from the airport, to having an entourage to escort me/my luggage across town to my flat, to seeing a whole slew of them at a birthday party last night, to church this morning with a dear dear friend...plus a few new ones! :)
All in all, St. Andrews feels much more homey than I ever expected it would feel after being removed from it the last couple years. I am happy beyond my wildest happiness.
*retrospective edit: not tiny at all. it's actually HUGE compared to the closet that other univeristy-housed students get. It's just not huge compared to my flatmate's :)
an outdated update
Yesterday:
Well, I am more or less in one piece.
I’m writing this particular entry from Heathrow, to be posted later because this airport is stingy with their WiFi, and I’m equally as stingy with my funds. Might as well wait for the internet I’m paying for, right?
Anyhow, here I am, sitting in that frickin’ holding tank in Terminal 5, drinking a pretty bad Americano, and feeling like my life is really surreal. By which I mean, I’m fully aware that all my (apparently very heavy) crap is somewhere around here waiting, like me, to get to Scotland. But I don’t think it’s quiiiiite sunk in that I’m not just here for a visit. It’s probably the sleep-deprivation (although I have to give a shout-out to British Airways for the best sleep I’ve ever had on a red-eye)…but it kinda feel as though I just exist in airport-world. The whole leaving and having a life somewhere after my plane lands in about 3 hours is more than I’m currently able to comprehend.
And what’s probably sadder is that I’m sitting in an exciting airport, writing (at least literally) to no one. But the thing I want to be doing right now is updating all my loved ones back home that I’m alive and well and totally exhausted and marveling at the middle aged woman in front of me wearing—I kid you not—pink jeans and a top that looks like a disco ball. It’s 10:30 am. London, I’ve missed you.
Ooops, she just spoke French. My people-watching skills need some honing.
Anyway, my point is that I miss home already. Not in a bad, I wish I hadn’t come here way. But just in the sense that I’m…well, a little older (hopefully a little wiser, too) than when I was a little sophomore (who let the 19 year old go to Scotland for 5 months? I was such a silly person at 19!). Anyway, last time I was testing the waters; I didn’t know what it’d be like to leave home behind. Actually, I was kinda glad to because I never had. Now I guess I’m starting to feel I the weight of starting off on my own adventure.
And I gotta say, this version’s a little more somber. And deliberate. And yes, exciting, but in an oddly peaceful way. I’m content and at home, even in this silly airport. And I think those are all really good things, actually. Because—get ready for this—I think it may mean I'm not just flinging myself through the universe anymore. :)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
couldn't wait to get going, but wasn't quite ready to leave
The title says it all (it also says "go listen to 'American Honey'" :)).
I am, honestly, incredibly excited to leave. My love for airplane travel has diminished considerably after a disaster-ridden return from London last spring, in which I ended up stranded in NYC for a night, then stuck in Atlanta (or, as I lovingly refer to it, my personal purgatory) for a day. But somehow, I still love flying. Especially the feeling of taking off, being untethered from all the things I own and do. It's just peaceful--the calm before the storm of whatever vacation or event or big life-changing move (ahh!) I happen to be headed to. And okay, I do still enjoy most airports because I just love doin' my own thing in a big crowd--which mostly means getting myself a Starbucks and a girly magazine, waiting by the gate, watching the everyone bustling around me, and daydreaming about wherever I'm going.
And boy am I thrilled to get where I'm going. Obviously, I'm excited for my classes--because who WOULDN'T want to learn Old English? Well, okay, I might be one of a very select group. But I guarantee we're the coolest bunch you'll ever meet (hah). It'll be awesome to catch up my friends, and hang around all my old haunts again. Not to mention the excellent weather! (hah, again. but I do actually like it. For those of you keeping track at home, Christy's Normalcy Points: -2)
But it's scary to think about doing more than a semester. It was awesome, but it was sometimes lonely. And my family is gonna be faaaar far away! I know I only have to last till Christmas, but that's still frickin' long time after living at home since May. So that's got me a little sad. And also, knowing that I may not ever come back to this house (since oh, minor update, we sold our house!). So that's a little weird. But hey-- just another transition, right? This is growing up, I guess.
On the upside, I'm pretty sure that it won't be quite the same kinda loneliness as last time, in that I already have some thoroughly ridiculous and wonderful friends. And (have I mentioned this? I don't think I have) my boyfriend, Greg, is studying Creative Writing in Glasgow this year. Yeah. I'm super proud of him. And also suuuuper happy not to have him across an ocean. He's already there, and every time he mentions things like Tesco and Costa, I get more and more pumped to get back to our favorite country :)
Okay, so maybe I'm ready. Guess I better go get my suitcases packed.
I am, honestly, incredibly excited to leave. My love for airplane travel has diminished considerably after a disaster-ridden return from London last spring, in which I ended up stranded in NYC for a night, then stuck in Atlanta (or, as I lovingly refer to it, my personal purgatory) for a day. But somehow, I still love flying. Especially the feeling of taking off, being untethered from all the things I own and do. It's just peaceful--the calm before the storm of whatever vacation or event or big life-changing move (ahh!) I happen to be headed to. And okay, I do still enjoy most airports because I just love doin' my own thing in a big crowd--which mostly means getting myself a Starbucks and a girly magazine, waiting by the gate, watching the everyone bustling around me, and daydreaming about wherever I'm going.
And boy am I thrilled to get where I'm going. Obviously, I'm excited for my classes--because who WOULDN'T want to learn Old English? Well, okay, I might be one of a very select group. But I guarantee we're the coolest bunch you'll ever meet (hah). It'll be awesome to catch up my friends, and hang around all my old haunts again. Not to mention the excellent weather! (hah, again. but I do actually like it. For those of you keeping track at home, Christy's Normalcy Points: -2)
But it's scary to think about doing more than a semester. It was awesome, but it was sometimes lonely. And my family is gonna be faaaar far away! I know I only have to last till Christmas, but that's still frickin' long time after living at home since May. So that's got me a little sad. And also, knowing that I may not ever come back to this house (since oh, minor update, we sold our house!). So that's a little weird. But hey-- just another transition, right? This is growing up, I guess.
On the upside, I'm pretty sure that it won't be quite the same kinda loneliness as last time, in that I already have some thoroughly ridiculous and wonderful friends. And (have I mentioned this? I don't think I have) my boyfriend, Greg, is studying Creative Writing in Glasgow this year. Yeah. I'm super proud of him. And also suuuuper happy not to have him across an ocean. He's already there, and every time he mentions things like Tesco and Costa, I get more and more pumped to get back to our favorite country :)
Okay, so maybe I'm ready. Guess I better go get my suitcases packed.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)