Will be attending UC Irvine! Yay southern California! Marie, I haven't been keeping you updated, but it looks like I'm finally going to get to visit you in LA after all!
I feel like deciding to attend grad school is almost like deciding to get married--once you finalize the decision with you close friends and family, you have to go through this long process of announcing it to the world, which is like telling all your disappointed suitors that however delightful they may be, they just haven't got what it takes (or, not infrequently, haven't got the money. . .). I feel like I should send out annoucements.
Anyway, in the end it was a fairly easy decision. Applying to grad school has been a rather miserable experience, but it seems like it has turned out for the best. Though I still feel a little funny about the fact I am planning to attend a school that I only applied to because I became obsessed with the O.C. over winter break. Sure, that isn't why I'm going to GO to Irvine, but I seriously wasn't going to apply to another school in CA other than Berkeley until I saw about my millionth episode and decided that California was the place to be.
I also know that I'm going to get tired of telling people that I'm NOT going to Irvine to study Derrida. For God's sake. Some professor or fellow was in my office last week and I told him I was probably going to Irvine, and he was like, oh, you can't get much better than that, isn't Derrida there? And I said, "I think he's dead." I think I rather shocked the TF with my blaze carelessness, but honestly, in my mind, Derrida is a historical figure, not a REAL person. Saying, "isn't he dead?" is rather like saying, "isn't TS Eliot dead?" or something like that.
T.S. Eliot is also dead, right?
1 comment:
Well, a big and well-deserved congratulations! (Which is what I would have said anyway without being prompted by the simile.) I confess I had it completely backwards about you and California — it sounds like a great match. (Although to my immense credit I did say weeks ago that something would work out that would be really good for you.)
Some professor or fellow was in my office last week and I told him I was probably going to Irvine, and he was like, oh, you can't get much better than that, isn't Derrida there? And I said, "I think he's dead." I think I rather shocked the TF with my blaze carelessness, but honestly, in my mind, Derrida is a historical figure, not a REAL person. Saying, "isn't he dead?" is rather like saying, "isn't TS Eliot dead?" or something like that.
Oh please, don't be so naive. C'mon. In order to know that, the professor/TF would have had to read something like… oh I dunno — the front page of the New York Times or something. I mean, I look at that kind of stuff pretty regularly, but then again everyone who knows me knows I'm a freak. Shit, I even saved a copy of the obit for some weird freaky reason. (OK… The reason is that I am a casual collector of obituaries; I believe there is a real art to writing them well.) And I even kept a copy of the picture, too.
But one of Derrida's obits stood apart: "flowers for derrida," posted at Fafblog. Could there have been anything more eloquent?
Post a Comment