Princess Sparklefists (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexiscartwheel) wrote2010-02-03 10:02 pm
alexiscartwheel) wrote2010-02-03 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
call it a writing experiment
My mom told me (again) last night that when I finish grad school, I really ought to write a collection of stories about my experiences with public transit. Over the past year and a half I've had my fair share of transit mishaps and misadventures, that's for sure, although I somehow doubt the outside world's interest in my inability to catch a train on time.
This evening I'm fresh from class and for the first time in recent memory, I've left the classroom still thinking about the course. I'm disappointed because there were avenues of discussion that we weren't able to explore and points that I wasn't able to raise. (Luckily, we have a course blog, so I'll be able to talk about those things later!) This really shouldn't be a novel experience for me--I like school, and pretty much always have. Unfortunately, library school pretty much sucks all the joy out of learning, so right now I am ecstatic about the fact that I am once again engaged by learning. Now I remember why I wanted to go to grad school--this is what it's supposed to be like. It actually makes me reconsider the idea of returning to grad school yet again for a subject masters degree. Not right away, but maybe someday.
Unfortunately, an old, run down bus (they always assign the buses that seem like they're about to fall apart to the commuter routes) is not the ideal place to contemplate all my ideas about classification theory. It's also not the ideal place to compose my latest blog post, and I can't help but worry about my laptop falling off my lap as we bounce over a particularly rough pothole, but I'm trying to get my ideas out of my head immediately. Normally I let things percolate so long that my desire to right them down retreats.
I'm sitting facing in, which I hate, both because it forces you into awkward eye contact with the people sitting across from you, or if it's rush hour and the bus is full, the person hovering right above you, and because every time the driver breaks too quickly you fly out of the seat. The man sitting across from me (he's facing the front of the bus, lucky bastard) is reading the student newspaper, The Diamondback, not exactly a bastion of high quality journalism and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I'm hungry and I kind of envy him the ice cream, but on the other hand I question his decision to eat ice cream on a bus on a cold day in February. Is he going all the way to Silver Spring? Because this is a 40 minutes bus ride. Will he just eat the whole pint, or let the rest of it melt?
We're driving past the international grocery stores and Peruvian chicken joints, which now that I'm fixated on hunger, can only make things worse. I had a hummus sandwich and some almonds, hastily purchased from the Food Co-op minutes before closing time this afternoon because I couldn't get it together enough this morning to pack two meals for the day. The snow last night wrought a two-hour delay for the University this morning. However, as I was scheduled to arrive at work at the exact time the University opened today, it actually made transportation to campus a much more confusing venture than it normally is.
Last night I had hoped for enough snow to close the University today, mainly because I was exhausted and would have relished a day to lounge around my apartment. I promised my roommate that I would make homemade chocolate chip cookies in that scenario. Although I lost (not that I ever had it to begin with) my day off, I did gain the experience of walking out into a magical looking Silver Spring this morning. And of course, my amazing classification theory class. You see, we really do live in the best of all possible worlds. Which is why, this morning, when I took to train lines and a bus to campus, the vehicles always arrived at the station just as I did, and I was able to find a comfortable seat.
I was examining what kind of metaphor someone might think I was building here, but the man with the ice cream interrupted me to ask "How's the connection on here?" Does having a conversation with the man with the ice cream (TMWTIC?) about my lack of wireless internet in a moving bus change something fundamental about this stream of consciousness posting experience? He may be eating ice cream, but I am, equally ridiculously I suppose, typing away at my laptop during my commute. I suppose either way, it makes the trip go by faster. Hmm.
This evening I'm fresh from class and for the first time in recent memory, I've left the classroom still thinking about the course. I'm disappointed because there were avenues of discussion that we weren't able to explore and points that I wasn't able to raise. (Luckily, we have a course blog, so I'll be able to talk about those things later!) This really shouldn't be a novel experience for me--I like school, and pretty much always have. Unfortunately, library school pretty much sucks all the joy out of learning, so right now I am ecstatic about the fact that I am once again engaged by learning. Now I remember why I wanted to go to grad school--this is what it's supposed to be like. It actually makes me reconsider the idea of returning to grad school yet again for a subject masters degree. Not right away, but maybe someday.
Unfortunately, an old, run down bus (they always assign the buses that seem like they're about to fall apart to the commuter routes) is not the ideal place to contemplate all my ideas about classification theory. It's also not the ideal place to compose my latest blog post, and I can't help but worry about my laptop falling off my lap as we bounce over a particularly rough pothole, but I'm trying to get my ideas out of my head immediately. Normally I let things percolate so long that my desire to right them down retreats.
I'm sitting facing in, which I hate, both because it forces you into awkward eye contact with the people sitting across from you, or if it's rush hour and the bus is full, the person hovering right above you, and because every time the driver breaks too quickly you fly out of the seat. The man sitting across from me (he's facing the front of the bus, lucky bastard) is reading the student newspaper, The Diamondback, not exactly a bastion of high quality journalism and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I'm hungry and I kind of envy him the ice cream, but on the other hand I question his decision to eat ice cream on a bus on a cold day in February. Is he going all the way to Silver Spring? Because this is a 40 minutes bus ride. Will he just eat the whole pint, or let the rest of it melt?
We're driving past the international grocery stores and Peruvian chicken joints, which now that I'm fixated on hunger, can only make things worse. I had a hummus sandwich and some almonds, hastily purchased from the Food Co-op minutes before closing time this afternoon because I couldn't get it together enough this morning to pack two meals for the day. The snow last night wrought a two-hour delay for the University this morning. However, as I was scheduled to arrive at work at the exact time the University opened today, it actually made transportation to campus a much more confusing venture than it normally is.
Last night I had hoped for enough snow to close the University today, mainly because I was exhausted and would have relished a day to lounge around my apartment. I promised my roommate that I would make homemade chocolate chip cookies in that scenario. Although I lost (not that I ever had it to begin with) my day off, I did gain the experience of walking out into a magical looking Silver Spring this morning. And of course, my amazing classification theory class. You see, we really do live in the best of all possible worlds. Which is why, this morning, when I took to train lines and a bus to campus, the vehicles always arrived at the station just as I did, and I was able to find a comfortable seat.
I was examining what kind of metaphor someone might think I was building here, but the man with the ice cream interrupted me to ask "How's the connection on here?" Does having a conversation with the man with the ice cream (TMWTIC?) about my lack of wireless internet in a moving bus change something fundamental about this stream of consciousness posting experience? He may be eating ice cream, but I am, equally ridiculously I suppose, typing away at my laptop during my commute. I suppose either way, it makes the trip go by faster. Hmm.