At the Party with the Law Students

Finally, it's the weekend. I've got a little time to be a basket case on my own terms. This means I'll be baking a bundt cake and working on a three-part poem about different occasions when one gives or receives flowers. It might be really lame, but I have to write it. I've started it, I want to do it, it has to be done. I was going to try to throw in an anti-war message in one section--still might--but I'd like to read some war poetry before I do that. Any sugguestions?

Last week was tough. Apart from the very first week I was in Knoxville, it may have been the toughest yet. And my colleagues could tell something was making me unhappy. I'm no good at disguising how I really feel. It's a blessing and a curse. I think maybe tough weeks, self-doubt, and soul searching are components of the spring semester. Spring semesters are tough. They seem longer, attention spans seem shorter, the air is always tense (especially in graduates school) with thesis and job search anxiety. So much of our futures depends on what happens in the spring semester. I vote we change that; come April I won't be able to focus on much of anything besides warm weather, picnics, summer road trips. Never have been much of a student in the spring.

Last night I went to a party with a brilliant theme--Rat Pack/Brat Pack. I planned on rocking my denim ruffian, Judd Nelson-inspired look, but I couldn't find my Bon Jovi t-shirt. Yes, I have a Bon Jovi t-shirt. Instead I went out for calzones with some friends and wasn't going to go to the party. I was apprehensive, since it was hosted by a guy in the English grad program whose room mates are law students. I wasn't sure how a law-lit soiree would cohere. I went though, and I had an okay time. There was no law-lit cohesion. We English folks stuck together in the back room sipping light beers and talking about conferences, comprehensive exams, and Comp 2. The law kids were wild. Projectile vomiting occurred. And boy were they decked out in their Rat Pack finery--tuxedos, bow ties, monogrammed handkerchiefs and engraved flasks. It was fun to watch them. Some of them were really nice. But the whole time I listened to exchanges between them--their talk of case briefs and civil procedure--I thanked god I'm in lit, even if writing workshop can be soul-wrenching sometimes. I'd much rather discuss metaphors than torte reform. It makes me feel like I have a soul.

Thank god it's the weekend. Let loose, will ya?