8 May 07

Time:

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Money:

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More interesting things:

Edged around a pack of maybe fifth-graders? Sixth? I don't know; whatever they were, they were pretty little, and there were a lot of 'em occupying a rather small stretch of hallway near graduate admissions. The guy herding them around told me that they were students at a middle school, I think, and that they take them on college trips a few times a year. Of course, I told him how cool I thought that was, since it gets a lot easier to remember WHY you should think about college if you know what one LOOKS like, and he agreed; another minute of conversation revealed that he'd had the same "I know I have to go, but other than that I got nothing" experience as I had. So, in at least one respect, those are some fortunate kids.

Squeezed past the horde and popped out in the office of Professor Number Six. This was nice partly because, of course, that happens to be where the elevator is located, but also partly because it gave me the opportunity to a) harass him after he announced that he was sore from golf, b) whack him, in a Colonel-and-coffee-esque move, in exactly the shoulder he'd just complained about, and c) feel bad enough, once he'd laughingly reminded me, that I petted said shoulder. It is always, always amusing to pass through that office; you can collect goofy commentary on the beeline to the secret passage as easily and unintentionally - but far more pleasantly - as you can burrs on a beeline through a woody field.

Got swept along into a meeting, of sorts, that I hadn't really intended to... well, "inspire" sounds a little too friendly. "Rile up" might be a better way to describe it. Either way, I was on the sixth floor for something completely unrelated, I'm pretty sure, when I ran first into Liz, with whom I exchanged a few minutes of angry but choir-preaching commentary, and then into Professor Number One, with whom Liz had a meeting but who performed the abovementioned sweeping. She prefaced it with the observation that we had to figure out what to do about Liz; not until we got to her office did I understand the implied "and you and your classmates and this shitty excuse for an administration" that was meant to follow Liz's name. The discussion included the sentences, "You gave Alpha your paper? Good! Tell him I said you pass! I'll read it later!" and covered the topic of turning in a committee sheet knowing full well what I know despite the fact that, as Number One, noted, "They'll get mad." (To which I responded by letting her know that if I could fill out TEN of those sheets I'd gladly do it.) The funny thing is, I don't even know if it was the sense of mobilizing, of girding up for a battle I am champing at the BIT to fight (should it become necessary, I mean) that I liked best; in fact, I think it was actually how strikingly the unified groupness around here was illustrated that had me smiling for awhile. Of course, wolfies don't get into fights they don't need to get into, so maybe that shouldn't be a surprise. The champing at the bit part doesn't come from wanting to go at it so much as it comes from getting the teeth ready and the hackles up.

Walked back down University Place behind two guys in kilts, with, I think, a dismantled bagpipe slung over the back of one of them.

Found out my dad is pancreas-mass-free: yippee! Congratulations, Dad.