So tomorrow is Fall semester registration...and I don't have a clue what I intend to take yet. I went in and met with my adviser yesterday and mumbled something about psychology and ethnic studies and fiction workshops and then let him tell me all about the new academic planning online system that the psych department is testing and how exciting and fun computers are.
He got a new leather chair and matching couch for his office--I guess the old cozy chairs weren't classy enough, and maybe he wanted to be more true to the psych stereotype, or maybe the couch is just more conducive to his afternoon naps. The chair is comfortable enough so I'm not going to bitch--and he still has the nice hand made quilts and the framed hotel art.
Anyway, after he let me see some other student's academic records because I'm not in the new database yet (because I've been lazy about submitting my declaration), we talking about the process of registration and the online schedule...but no headway was made in regards to the classes I'll be taking.
This evening I gave a brilliant presentation in my German Poetry and Music class all about composers who contracted syphilis versus poets who did not. Well, that wasn't what I originally intended to discuss, but...after my interpretation of Klopstock's Early Graves the descent of my academic prowess was really inevitable.
Yes, I did in fact tell the class I thought the poem was about vampires. First we had the serious conversation about deeper meanings and Goethe and all that fancywhatnotwhosibbles and then...we were asked about alternate interpretations. There were maybe seven of us in class tonight--between my detailed explanation about how managed to warp this elegant evening poem to be about vampires and my ramblings about syphilitic geniuses....I don't know. I just don't know.