I attached the self-portrait to the right to reassure everyone that I am healthier and happier than ever as the term winds down and I submit grades for my students. Despite getting Guizot, Thiers, and Gambetta confused on the final, most of them did a reasonably good job in the class and I had fun TA'ing it. Next term: Russian intellectual history. About which I know slightly more than I do about, say, eighteenth-century Chinese social history.On the agenda over the next little while: a meeting of the minds tonight to watch Flight of the Conchords and drink vino, a super-secret trip for a super-secret event (too secret to specify here in a public forum), and then a trip up to Oregon to see the moms and co. Clearly, I still know how to party.
Present state of mind: I am confused about how as you get older life gets faster. This last term has gone by like one of those flip-books in which the pictures seem to move for the three seconds it takes to get through the book, at which point the book is over and (extending the analogy), you're dead.
1 comment:
You could probably draw a parallel between time speeding up as you get older, and the frog that jumps exactly half-way toward the wall every time he jumps: sure the years and distance seem shorter each time you traverse them, but you realize you're not really getting any closer until something extremely unforeseen and tragic happens... like when I stork steps in and eats you.
My, is it breakfast time already?
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