So I’m here in Corvallis, land of grad school memories, cow shit and hot hot heat. It’s a miserable spring day and I’m dodging folks right now–the ones I came here with (not that I don’t like them–six hours in a minivan is enough cause for anyone to deserve a little time alone) and the ones I used to be here with (these are the people I don’t particularly like–the pretentious, egoistic intellectuals who came here for grad school and never left). And right now I’m feeling a little stuck in the middle, a little nostaligic and indifferent about where I am, a little dissappointed that I came here (honestly, it’s more the place than the reason I came that’s got me down) and a little overheated.
I guess the best analogy is a slightly leaky radiator: there’s plenty of water to get where I’m going, but the thing’s steaming and I’d rather pull over to the side of the road.
A cool shower, a reading by Tobias Wolfe and a good sleep will suit me just fine. Oh yeah.