As Easter term rushes toward its end...

A few things to update you on as the term starts winding down.

First, I submitted all the paperwork for my first-year registration!  The big thing was a writing sample, which I felt was ultimately less complete than I would have liked.  Still, it showcases what I'd like to write about for the next couple years.  Here's the funny thing, though: after I had printed out everything, including statements of what I've been doing and attending all year, I signed the cover form and suddenly found myself stumped by the following: "The title of my proposed dissertation is ___________."  My topic has changed a fair amount from my admissions proposal, and I genuinely haven't thought about what to call it.  So 15 minutes before this thing was due, I sat in the library staring at this little bit of white space, trying to come up with something clever.   I didn't.  Placeholder it is: Tennyson and the New Philology.

Now I wait for the department to contact me about an in-person chat with two faculty members who are not my supervisor.  But do you think I'm relaxing?  Not a bit of it!  For one thing, I've been working on a proofreading project for quite some time now, sorely neglecting it the past couple weeks.  For the sake of professionalism, I really have to finish it up pronto -- hence my return to the library.

Meanwhile, rowing has ramped up in preparation for the May Bumps next week.  It took nearly all term to settle on a crew for W2 (women's second boat), so now we're trying to come together as a unit quickly.  To be honest, I've found it a frustrating term for rowing, because it feels like I'm getting worse rather than better.  I don't think that's actually true, but my half of the boat (and me particularly) are certainly getting a lot more commentary from the coach and the cox.  And the more they call out in piercing tones that convey annoyance that we're doing something wrong, just as I was focusing on fixing the last thing, the angrier I get.  It's not pretty inside my head at those times.  Then today, for extra fun, I had so much trouble breathing during a sprint that I was actually worried about my health, and so was the coach, based on my facial expressions.  I've never in my entire life had asthma, so this was both frightening and embarrassing.  Here's hoping it was a fluke panic attack or something.

Looking ahead: my friend/sister-in-law's sister and I are taking a weekend trip to some off-the-beaten-track villages on the border of Wales.  Bumps follows, after which will be the gloriously booze-soaked, sleep-deprived experience that is May Week in Cambridge.  So I should have lots to report in the coming weeks!