I am the smart, s-m-r-t

[ari_o]

So today is my first day of graduate school. I am an MFA candidate. Right now. With cramps.

I am sitting in the library and have just been madly googling maps and bus routes so that I can get home. It was very weird to come to school today but not know how to get home. Some of you (well, if more than one person reads this) maybe thinking--why not just reverse the way you came to school to get home, right? Well, therein lies the rub.

I came from the world's sketchiest Marriott in New Rochelle this morning because UHaul fucked us over. They did not have our truck on Saturday or Sunday until 6pm. Poor David had to drive almost an hour to get said truck and I had to hop on the train to get to the world's sketchiest Marriott. The people were very nice there and the room didn't look dirty or anything, but it just felt very cheap and plastic. Not to mention the u-g-l-y (can you hear Fishbone?) decor. And the room? Not cheap!

David packed the truck up with his friends last night while I was on the train. As he was hopping into his car to get the fucking USchmuck Truck and I was running for the subway-he grabbed me and said he was proud of me and all kinds of other sappy crap. And I burst into tears. It was horrible. Running for the subway to South Station in tears just as it was starting to rain. How cinematic. Bite me.

It did not occur to me that I was leaving Cambridge for good until this morning, 13 hours after I'd left. I felt sort of sad. I missed my chance to feel a Holden Caulfield goodbye moment in all the hysteria. I never said goodbye to my roommate, who is an old friend. I ran out the door. I am not sure that we packed all our towels. And I think our linen registry frightened people because there was no online component and so no one bought us any new towels and I am worried that we will have to share one dingy towel for the next year. We got many lovely gifts and I didn't care about the gifts at all--but it is still interesting that all of the gifts we received came from amazon (easy online access) and not garnet hill (call an 800 number only, but 24/7.)

I have been wandering, really tottering, to and fro all over campus with my huge orange bike messenger bag stuffed to capacity (it is standing in for the suitcase I do not own) and also lugging my indiebride tote bag full of paperwork and all sorts of handbooks and booklets and who knows what else. My mind is so spacey I could have been handed a puppy and I would have tucked into my tote bag between the student handbook and my medical paperwork. He'd be a little flattened but cozy. I think there are some tic tacs in there somewhere because I forgot toothpaste and bought them in haste this morning when I realized my breath might commit a homicide.

I think I've figured out how to get home. Normally I would walk but I am exhausted and I have all the huge stuffed bags that weigh a lot. Maybe there is a puppy in one of them. I can hope.

Our new landlord is a retired fireman. He lives downstairs and and has two beautiful Huskies. (I can hear praetorianguard shouting.) I think we'll get a kitten soon. Once the bags are unpacked and I verify that I do not have a puppy in my bags. If there is a puppy in my bag I will call it Rupert and not get a kitty.

Wow, this reads like a literary Rorschack test. Oh dear.

I just got an email that our wedding cake was free. They bakers made several mistakes. So they are refunding our money. Wow, just when I was all set to starve too. Mmmmmm cake.

I was looking around at the people (about 15of them) in my writing program at 10:34 this morning. I checked my watch because I wanted to remember the moment.The program director was telling us about how we probably feel weird as MFA candidates because writing is weird, but that we all belong there because we were chosen carefully for a large pool of candidates. Yay! We're special. (I always hear David adding, "But not Short Bus special, right?") I am wondering if any of them will be my friends? There was a lunch picnic but I was trying to straighten out all my financial stuff and when I got there everyone was in tight little groups. I grabbed an iced coffee (that turned out to be very sweet iced tea) and fled. So introverted, moi.

Meta moment: I was planning to switch to the new journal but I keep posting over here. *sigh* Maybe once we are moved into our new house and things... Perhaps I should cross post this there? You now the real impediment there is aesthetic. I haven't had time to make a layout there so I don't want to post there. How ridiculous am I? Well, I think my new status as candidate for a Masters of Fine Arts says it all.