So yesterday morning, I was on stand-by (because I'm a flake and missed the registration date by two days) to take the GRE Subject Test in English Literature. I decided to apply to the doctoral program at the CUNY Graduate Center for the Fall of '07 because a) several professors here at City and the Grad Center told me I should and offered to write letters of rec, b) I figured out a topic I could write a dissertation about that wouldn't drive me to despair and c) why the hell not?
Anyway, it turns out there are three of us there on stand-by and only two tests. One of these people was Columbia Boy, who had been standing since 6:30 AM out in the cold in front of George Washington High School (the test site). The other was Cool, Funky Girl, who had a high-wattage smile and offered all the other GRE test takers extra pencils and clutched a dogeared copy of the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry to her chest like a talisman.
At first, it appeared that there were three stand-by tests, but this was due to the general imcompetence and confusion of the test-givers. It wasn't discovered that one of the people with an actual appointment was indeed there until I had taken off my jacket, bubbled in all my info on the scantron, and was waiting patiently to crack open the test booklet.
So when it was clear that one of we three stand-bys would have to bow out, I took the bullet. As I got up in front of a classroom full of people, each thankful that they were not the nice guy with the freshly opened chest wound, I wanted to shout out something ridiculous and carefree like "So long, suckers!" Instead, I glanced at Columbia Boy and said "Ahhhhh, I didn't want to be a real professor anyway. I'm still banking on being a famous poet."
To which Columbia Boy said (instead of "Thanks" or "Good luck!" or simply laughing) "Me too!" Which made me want to drive my sharpened number two pencil into his eye. Fuck you, Columbia Boy: You'll still be paying off your $90,000 degree while I'm bedding all the worshipful, geeky girls who come up to me after my brilliant poetry readings across this great land of ours.
Well, not really.
So I guess that was a mitzvah, a good deed--at least, that's what I keep telling myself (instead of Columbia Boy, I should think about what a generous, inspiring professor Cool, Funky Girl will one day become). I know, I know--I can always take it in April and simply apply to the Grad Center for the Fall of 2008. But that's not going to happen. Part of the appeal of this path was a seamless transition from finishing my MFA at City into the Grad Center (and the all the lovely continuance of financial aid that implies). To wait a whole year, and be that much further into my forties (My forties!), before launching on another five years of higher edumacation? Feh.
Why am I posting this, O coterie? Well, I'm feeling slightly low about the whole thing and wanted to share and my proper blog isn't the place for this sort of venting. That I'm low at all is funny, seeing as how I never really wanted to do it in the first place (that is, naturally, until I was prevented from doing it by Cruella DeFate).
But it's okay, right? There's still that whole famous poet thing. Ha. Ha ha.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
2 comments:
That sucks, Gregory; I'm sorry.
But, hey, at least you're not a cockgobbler like Columbia Boy.
Really, I'm sorry.
[DR]
Cruella DeFate...that sucks. Columbia Boy and Funky girl are cockgobbling sycophantic snobs. If you had a test of strength, brilliance, and charm, you would so be the winner. As far as big picture though, I think if you really want it, it will happen. And personally I don't think you need the PhD, you're brilliant and you have connections as is; you don't need the hassle and more years. You've already earned a good degree and you can still take more classes if you want. AND be a real professor. AND be a famous poet. [Modigs]
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