Grade A Beef.
I was filling out an application today and discovered that I needed to include copies of my University transcripts and diplomas. Fortunately, I just happen to keep stuff like that on hand for just this kind of crisis. So after a couple of minutes of wondering where I might have stuffed them -- they don't actually come out very often anymore -- I found them wedged in a file marked MISC.
They were both there but I found I couldn't look closely at them. Sometimes I like remembering my collegial days, but I don't think I like remembering my marks. Now, I didn't do badly overall, so it's not as though I was seeing strings of Fs. It's more seeing some of the course titles makes me a little nauseous. I remember profs or people in classes or moods I was in. Like how could I not see 110-335A (20th century novel 1) and not think Pearhead in the basement of the computer building? How could I see COMS 563 (Media prod. Television) and not want to break into Greek dancing?
And yes, I see a couple of grades that really pissed me off. Like that Milton class in second year. That made me so mad! But I don't think anyone could have done well in it. The prof had recently had a bad breakup with another prof in the dept if I remember right, and was bitter. Harrumph.
Ah. This is taking me back. McGill in the Fall was nice. It looked pretty. Hanging out in the Alley that smoky (archaic...) coffee place under the McGill bar. Too many hours in the library with Helen. Apartment on Cote-des-Neiges in the hell winter of 93. All the stuff we used to do when we weren't at school.
There. I solved my own problem. Now the transcripts are just making me feel a bit nostalgic for Montreal in the Grunge era. I want to be drinking a pitcher of cheap beer,wearing my doc boots and various layers of ratty clothing now.
At least my hair is long and red again.
They were both there but I found I couldn't look closely at them. Sometimes I like remembering my collegial days, but I don't think I like remembering my marks. Now, I didn't do badly overall, so it's not as though I was seeing strings of Fs. It's more seeing some of the course titles makes me a little nauseous. I remember profs or people in classes or moods I was in. Like how could I not see 110-335A (20th century novel 1) and not think Pearhead in the basement of the computer building? How could I see COMS 563 (Media prod. Television) and not want to break into Greek dancing?
And yes, I see a couple of grades that really pissed me off. Like that Milton class in second year. That made me so mad! But I don't think anyone could have done well in it. The prof had recently had a bad breakup with another prof in the dept if I remember right, and was bitter. Harrumph.
Ah. This is taking me back. McGill in the Fall was nice. It looked pretty. Hanging out in the Alley that smoky (archaic...) coffee place under the McGill bar. Too many hours in the library with Helen. Apartment on Cote-des-Neiges in the hell winter of 93. All the stuff we used to do when we weren't at school.
There. I solved my own problem. Now the transcripts are just making me feel a bit nostalgic for Montreal in the Grunge era. I want to be drinking a pitcher of cheap beer,wearing my doc boots and various layers of ratty clothing now.
At least my hair is long and red again.
posted by Unknown at 5:42 p.m.
1 Comments:
This evening, there were actual leaves ON the ground so they made that crunching noise as I was walking. It's here, that's for sure.
I'll post some pictures of red leaves for my Bc and Ozzie readers who may not get as many....
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