06 January 2012

My German literature class looks exciting. We start out talking about the Aufklärung, one of my favourite historical moments, and we read Freud's essay on the uncanny auf Deutsch. It is going to be a challenge and I am glad to have the security of auditing. I had borrowed a cute blue mug with white dots from the history department to have my tea in and on the way back up in the elevator who should appear but the hottie professor of medieval studies. I did not greet him; he gave me my worst mark ever in a class I did all the work in. Soon, though, everyone else emptied out of the elevator and he said hello to me. He asked what was going on and I said that my health had been bad and that I had just finished my final requirements for graduation. He asked about what after that and I said I'd really like to try for grad school, and as we stood in the empty hallway he gave me a introductory how-to of applications. "Do I make you nervous?" he asked. "No, I'm just a shy person, and you gave me my worst mark ever in a class I did all the work for." I also kept sending him drafts of a paper I was struggling with which he kept saying were good and then he gave me a C- on the paper. I never get C-'s on papers. He tried to assure me all was not lost, and by the end of the conversation I was jittery because grand school! caffeine! cognitive dissonance! and also maybe I cannot help myself.

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