The subtle joys of assimilation

I did the usual things today, nothing fancy... went to campus to get better acquainted with the lay of the land, worked out at the gym, strolled around in the bookstore. See? Nothing remotely fancy about any of that. When I got back to my building, I checked the mail to find I had received the business cards I ordered... all printed askew. The "T" is missing from the word "There" on the left of the card, making it say "here" and completely changing the context. Not good. Emily angry.

Then began my wild telephoning adventure. I called the printer, who apologized profusely and swore to send a corrected order. While I was at it, I also called financial aid, the student ID office, the local Ikea store, financial aid again, two open mic venues, my bank, my phone company (there's irony for ya), and four of my friends in Texas. Whether or not anything constructive got done is anybody's guess, but at least I felt industrious. Apparently, that's the latin root for the name Emily... industrious. Oh, well. Sorry to let you down, mom, but I don't typically live up to my namesake. Give me a big pot of coffee and an all-too-fast-approaching deadline of some sort, and I come close.

I still miss my guitar. The damn tuning peg is broken beyond my ability to repair, which is limited in the first place anyway, so I've been doodling around on Jane's acoustic, which she was kind enough to lend me. Oh, but I miss my guitar. It has a certain feel to it that I've grown accustomed to, and that goes a long way when one's ability to play leaves so much to be desired. Still, I have hopes that, in coming days, I'll make the trip to the city and get the thing fixed. For now, my coffers are depleted to dust at the bottom, so such a frivolous expenditure will just have to wait. Anyway, damn.

While spending a quiet evening of grieving the plight of my guitar. my lovely roommate called to let me know she was down the street with some philosopy friends having some wine and enjoying the nice weather. How could I possibly pull myself away from my room and my gimpy guitar, you may ask... ah, but wine and company beckons in beguiling ways. I was there in less than half an hour, and met some excellent people (though, for the life of me, I can remember none of their names) over passable wine and truly wonderful conversation. It became aparent to everyone there that I would most likely be seeing a great deal more of Jane's friends, despite being in an entirely different department than mine. There was even talk of my conversion to the philosophy department, which I have to admit I've found a tempting prospect on more than one occassion since the two years I've spent on my psychology masters. Granted, I loved what I did, but what I did was philosophy... such was the odd nature of our psych program at University of Dallas. While most people in their last semester of psych masters work are messing with cognitive studies and empirical work, I was differentiating between arguments on reality and embodiment by Sartre and Merleau-Ponty, and reading more Heidegger than most human beings should ever have to. The philosophy folks seem to understand my predicament, and, more importantly, what the hell I'm talking about whenever I rant about the applications of existential phenomenology in regard to the flaws in empirical research methodologies. Okay, they don't entirely understand, but they do understand the parts that are hardest, namely, who all the people with the funny names are and what they had to say in general. It's refreshing, especially over wine. I find most things are more refreshing over wine.

I say yes to assimilation, then, if this is a crowd that will have me. If the psychology folks are as cool as the philosophy bunch I've been meeting, then all the better for me. If not, I at least know I have a potential refuge, should I need to seek academic solace at some point. That's enough to make me feel a lot more at ease about begining my studies... I always have somewhere to run and hide. And drink wine. And bitch about the odd philosopher now and then.