Since one reader described the content of my last installment as 'meta' in scope, my ambitions for this entry are more modest. Really I'm quite elated; I want to express as much. Headline banner: my sister Kathleen got into Leeds University. We're all immensely proud of her. She leaves home for northern pastures new in mid-September. It's going to be a testing time for my parents - the last child gone and a big empty house. But they're quickly adjusting to the idea. Perhaps a little too quickly!
Also today, I concluded that Yale will make a mighty fine home these coming years; that the PhD program will be stimulating beyond compare; and, best of all, I'll be among some outstanding individuals.
The friends I've made so far fall into groups. The main one consists of my sixteen classmates, whom I'm gradually getting to know. They're a deeply impressive bunch, about half American, springing from a range of backgrounds. We're plodding through the math together: a two-hour lecture each morning, coffee-shop banter about the assigned problems late afternoon. This evening four of us wound up in Temple Grill. With balmy, Mediterranean-esque weather [note to self, dislike the word balmy, almost as bad as moist - ewwwwww - avoid in future], we tucked into burgers and supped beer, all the while arguing education policy, development aid, films, homelessness. By 8 o'clock, we'd set the entire world and his dog to rights.
More strangely, I attended a leaving party on Wednesday. Odd, since I'd only bumped into Keturah once! She's off to Rochester to work toward a PhD in cognitive science. Sushi and Froyo were her last requests - and judicious ones they proved too. Anirvan and I were totally stuffed after munching on what seemed to be four million curried cauliflower California rolls. Fortunately, our pudding stomachs - an anatomical reality, there's no question - kicked into gear and bore the brunt of the candy-laden frozen yogurt that followed - 'froyo' being another New Haven delicacy extolled by locals (who may not be wholly trustworthy, claiming full credit - as restaurateurs here do - for the invention of pizza and the hamburger).
Yale possesses the most extraordinary gym known to man. Anirvan is keen to scout out its delights - or, depending which way you look at it, instruments of torture: a 50m indoor pool, ten squash courts, indoor running track, fitness center, basketball, tennis center, etc etc ad infinitum. In a foolish bout of getting-to-know-you repartee, I apparently signed onto a tri-weekly fitness regime that should have me running a pace or two faster than Ussain Bolt before the year's out. Those who've witnessed my previous attempts at such get-fit-quick shenanigans will doubtless be chuckling in derision. Ye of little faith. Well, OK, let's be honest, my record on that front's not exactly stellar. But this time will be different! Be sure to check up on me ;)
Those, then, are my few scraps of news, to amuse and divert you in a spare moment. Altogether less weighty than before, I hope.
To end, I should insert the disclaimer that most of these posts are written very late at night (it's hitting 2am now). That might explain any eccentricities that creep in! Something I like to do before nodding off is listen to music. One especially affecting piece I stumbled upon recently is Bach's Christmas Oratorio. At the still core of this magnificent, otherwise uplifting work lies the aria, Schlafe mein Liebster - Sleep my beloved. If, like me, on a hot summer's night you find yourself restless, absorbed, wanting to be lulled, listen to this. It'll surely do the trick.
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