Grad school blues, and such

I typed "Art history sucks today" and this was the first image that came up. My thoughts exactly.

I should mention before we begin that Kate Middleton studied art history, so if you want to marry a prince you should start with an art history program. Not really though, I don't want to be in classes with those girls (or boys).

Grad school sucks lately. Here’s why:

1—“Don’t worry about picking a thesis topic yet, Sarah. Live, learn, absorb and really take time to grow. By the way, if you could just tell me what your thesis will be for class tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

2—You’re funded! Or are you… We’ll let you know in two to three weeks, so just spend your time thinking about that. I know, I know, don’t complain about getting $$, Sarah. I’m just complaining about the stress.

3—First year fifteen. Like freshmen have an excuse to gain weight?

4—Anything below a B is actually an F. But, hey! don’t worry about it. Live, learn, absorb…

5—My boyfriend lives in a different state and we spend most of our time talking about our homework. I don’t mind this so much, sometimes Michael actually cares about the French feminist I’m reading, or issues of Intention, plus he’ll argue with me about it. That really is a good thing, honest. Anyway, 7-8 hour drive? Good plan, SarMichael! (our names don’t fit together in a cutesy way, but it never works out if they do—remember Bennifer?)

6—The most enforced rule on campus is Do NOT eat in the library. So, don’t eat since you’re always in the library.

7—Read everything. All the time. And when you’re done, research for your huge papers. PS—what’s your thesis topic?

8—Grad school makes you old. Remember when I used to take like 5 classes and stay up until 4 am having confetti fights?

9—I found a good yoga class, but they don’t practice on moon days. Freakin hippies. Plus when I’m there they always casually mention that I should be doing about an hour of yoga a day, and then they ask me what I’m writing my thesis on. Just kidding.

10— My plants are dying. They hate me, which is completely rude because all I do is love them.

11— I’ve become so paranoid about exploited departmental toner by printing articles at school, that I had to either buy my own super printer or start taking anxiety pills. I bought one. Wait, what if my printer runs out of toner!! I better stock up on toner, paper, buy a generator in case I lose power, and maybe a back-up printer. I’m considering pasting google-y eyes onto the front so I can have a friend at home. Screw you, plants—I’m going to hang out with my printer.

12—I signed up for a Verizon Wireless super internet plan over the summer. I can be online for about 20 hours a month without paying extra. 2- year contract? You got me again, Best Buy (Newman!). That may seem like a lot of time, but it isn’t. If I chose to watch Modern Family, patrol facebook…or blog at home, I end up having to ration my research time. I actually have to make lists before going on the internet. Don’t despair! I have more time to work on my thesis (grumble, grumble).

13—Everyone refers to each other as “colleagues.” If I ever start an email with, “Dear colleagues,” somebody punch me.

14—Speaking of emails, one of my professors suggested that “Hello, blah blah” was not an appropriate salutation and that I really should begin things with “Dear so-and-so.” It took ALL of my willpower to not reply: Dear so-and-so, Thank you for the advice! Sarah.

15—I have that “Drivin round town with the girl I love…” song in my head all. the. time.

Okay, so that last one has nothing to do with graduate school, but it may be my most pressing problem. I like my program and am proud to have been accepted, I’ve been very lucky with funding, I like my apartment, my classmates and teachers (I mean, colleagues), and I like Eugene. But this past week I’ve had a case of the mean reds. I’m just missing my roommates (which includes about 7 girls… and also Jackson), MGB, Sunday dinners, my puppy and my family this week. Why? Because none of them ask me about my thesis. OR sing peppy, pop songs (except for Michael).