Dorothy Gale
Dorothy Gale (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, as Dorothy would say in the film, “Well, Toto, we’re not in Kansas any more”. I say that looking at the printout of the adult-version of “What I did this summer” that we had to write so that the people at school could start to get a sense of where we were at, academically.

There is a lot of red on this paper. A lot. There is more red on this essay than in a red ink factory. In fact, I suspect that one such factory has been entirely drained of red ink just so that this essay could be marked. Directors and staff are sending their kids around the world on the money that the red ink on this essay must have given that factory.

Maybe there is still time to reorient into some form of simpler shop class. I can glue the backs of books – that must be what my mental acuity could be used for. Who was I kidding when I thought that I could handle an English degree?

I am only half-serious. It is just that my unspoken intention of riding into university and bowl everyone over with my style and ability seems to have hit quite a snag. My tutor isn’t impressed at all, and I suppose every year there is someone who blows in full of himself or herself. Why did I think I would be any different?

So, perhaps I grew a bit sloppy when writing this ‘simple’ essay, and they got me on that. Instead of impressing, I’ve sputtered academically. Or maybe it was because I partied a couple of days ago, and didn’t pay enough attention to the essay. Or maybe I just am terrible at this. I shall do better next time. Or, as they say in the cartoon show: Next time, Gadget. Next time.

If only George was more willing to sit on my lap and look menacing while I stroked his head. Instead, George just runs off when he is picked up and placed in a lap. That also makes Watson jealous, and he comes bounding to sit on the lap, and George just happily gives his spot up to the dog.

Math Dances
Photo credit: Dylan231

Mark’s reception at school was better than mine. He can’t stop talking about this lecturer, and apparently this lecturer likes what he sees in Mark so they’ve become budding buddies of sorts – as far as teacher and student relationships can become so friendly in a couple of days.

At least no ink-factory got drained on his behalf. In fact, they’ve been discussing maths and things for days. Usually Mark just leaves maths aside, except when he meets people who really understand it. Then he can go on and on about it. It’s like it stokes his chimneys, and clears out the cob-webs so that he can go on full steam.

A year and a half ago – god is it that long? – when Mark worked at my mother’s then employer in Sweden, during the first week or so he left bed at five in the morning because he was afraid he would over-sleep or something. We’re back to that. If he has a lecture, even if it’s after noon, he gets up really early and heads off. As if he’s going to over-sleep and miss some good bits. Or as if he’s going to disappoint anyone by being on time.

The worrying thing is that I don’t feel such enthusiasm. Yet. Here we are, at what we’ve aimed to for so long, and I’m writing silly posts about an essay. But in truth, I’m maybe not as devastated as I should be about the essay, because I’m not so enthusiastic. This I will have to think on some more.