I only ordered delivery just now because I know they’ll include napkins with my order and I’m all out of t.p. and too tired to go buy any.
I have consistently drank so much coffee the last two weeks, my urine smells like a Starbucks. Pull up a chair. I’ll get you a cup of Jones Roast……Blonde.
Other than the feelings of readings, readings, readings, papers, papers, grading, emails, emails, answer emails to students, answer EVEN MORE EMAILS TO STUDENTS WHO DO NOT PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS WHEN I TELL THEM WHEN AN ASSIGNMENT IS DUE or where they can FIND THE ASSIGNMENT, I am generally enjoying the life of a grad assistant. Today, I discovered where the library is on campus (much to the horror and chagrin to a fellow GA who pointed out we should be in there once a week doing research).
I knew that.
I mean, like, I totally knew that.
My only complaint?
The fucking motherfucking parking. Seriously. Why…..what…..Ninety-six bones for a goddamn permit (or put on a wait list if you’re faculty) and today, it took me nearly a goddamn hour to find a parking space because some genius said, “You know what? For the Bear Festival? Let’s shut down TWO of the commuter lots. YEAH!”
WHY DON’T YOU JUST SET MY HOUSE ON FIRE THEN MURDER A BUS FULL OF CHILDREN IN FRONT OF ME, YOU INSANE GODLESS PERSON.
Now who’s whiney?
Week One of teaching:
Times I vomited: 0
Times I cried: 1
Times I said I should quit and live under a bridge to be a troll: at least twice
Times I said that they made a mistake and should have given the assistantship to another person: 2
Times I said that I can’t be a teacher: 1,000
Times I drank: I think once. Who knows.
This week (week two), a student told me I was their favorite teacher. And that made me feel pretty darn good. AND a separate student told me I reminded them of Zooey Deschanel, so I guess that’s okay………….
I think I’ll be alright.