Thursday, February 8, 2007


I got a phone call today from my undergrad institution. I have a real love/hate relationship with the place. On the one hand, I loved my faculty. On the other hand, well, let's just say that when I went there you could count the people-of-color on a hand an a half (there were 9 students of color out of 800 or so). My campus was like one big sorority full of white women who wore pearls to class with their sweatshirts and couldn't wait until Friday and the next mixer.

In other words, not my kind of place. [ok sure, not everyone was like that, but...most were]

Anyway...the phone rang and it had a 540 area code. Since I didn't apply to UVa, I knew it couldn't be someone from the English Dept. calling to offer me gobs of money (damn). It had to be someone from my undergrad institution.

"Hi, is this Julie? This is Buffy McTiffany from [school]!"

The chances of Buffy McTiffany actually remembering me are slim to none. If she knew me, she would know that indeed I do not want to come to the alumnae luncheon in San Jose next week.

And no, I do not feel badly about failing to send in my donation for the 15 year reunion happening This! Spring!

I do, however, feel really fucking old all of a sudden. I graduated from college FIFTEEN YEARS AGO. Jeebus.

That's right. When I get the PhD four or so years from now, I'll be that 37-year-old on the market for the first time.

You spring chickens out there have nothing to worry about.

For a very brief moment, I thought about going to the alumnae luncheon just to mess with them, but then I remembered that I'm old and no longer so rebellious/immature. But I did consider it.