Welcome to My Crib, Er, Blog
I am a
completely burnt out graduate student in my last semester of a program no one really
understands. I write (well, type) this inaugural blog post in the
ever-so-slightly nauseatingly fluorescent lighting and uncomfortable,
plastic chairs of the first floor (or is this the second floor? I never know)
of Newman Library. I thought by this point, I would be passionately researching
my Master’s Thesis, waiting with baited breath to hear back from the scores of
ivy league schools I had applied to for my PhD in Art History. Ha.
HAHAHAHA.
No.
Instead, I have given up on academia. Or shall we say--I will be
taking an extended leave of absence from academia post-graduation. Whether it’s
because I'm totally exhausted or have lost confidence in myself or because grad
school is just HARD--and I'm here. Hello. Welcome to my life. I am sorry that
you have to read this (then again, if you're the TA, you're also probably a
graduate student and you probably get where I'm at mentally and emotionally.
Although you're also the TA for a class on the Geography of Wine so you're basically
one of the luckiest students on campus so I don’t know, you tell me).
All of this is to say that I have signed up for this course
because I am a GTA at Virginia Tech and as a part of my contract, I am
obligated to take 12 credit hours of class. I got fed up with writing my own rigorous,
academic syllabi for independent studies no one particularly cared
about (oh and then having to force myself to read the like 20+ books I assigned
myself and then write papers no one read on said literature) and/or
interning for bizarre, horrible, or mis-managed (sometimes all three!) unpaid
internships in the Blacksburg/Christiansburg area. So, I have decided to treat
myself á la Tom and Donna from Parks and Rec to a semester filled with a fun
class...and wine (which frankly, given the quantity I consume, I should get
some credit--academic or otherwise).
My wine drinking has somewhat evolved. I began drinking
Manischewitz at Passover Seders when I was young. My
palette expanded to include cheap wine (Arbor Mist, Barefoot Moscato)
which I drank in hideous quantities at fraternity parties in undergrad.
Now that I am an emotionally mature 23-year-old, I now drink cheap wine (Arbor
Mist, Barefoot Moscato) by myself in my overpriced, unheated shithole of an
apartment in Blacksburg.
To say
that I have not been exposed to real, mature wine is untrue—listen, I've been to a Wegmans. I get it. No, I kid. I have a degree in French so I've had scores of French wine. I've also traveled pretty
extensively and have tried Canadian, German, Austrian, Czech, and
Italian wine. I’ve also been to several wine festivals and vineyards in
Virginia and North Carolina. I like most of the wine I have tried (with the exception of a disgusting organic wine I tried in France that was foul) although I
definitely prefer a sweeter wine--Moscato, Riesling, White Zinfandel.
Oh, and to not be like Michael Scott (anymore)!
I am excited to be in this class!
Oh... this is me (with my mom (left) and the Hokie bird (center))
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