Graduate life, it’s unlike any other experience in the world. I woke up at 6:30 to discover, much to my displeasure, that the university is indeed having class today. I should have known then that chaos would later ensue. I should have armed myself for battle or done calisthenics; I should have made coffee! Alas, drowsiness overcame my reason and I immediately went back to sleep until 8:00. After being jolted awake by my insensitive alarm, I commenced in being indecisive about what to wear for 45 minutes. I had to teach a class this morning and most of my teaching clothes were in the laundry and everything else was much too thin for all the snow outdoors. Oh the hardships of graduate life! I finally decided, threw on some clothes and frantically tried to gather school materials, finish getting ready and choke down breakfast with what little time I had left. I walked out the door with only 10 minutes to class time and NO coffee in my system! This is when the warning bells should have started ringing, but no, I stubbornly pushed forward without regard for my uncaffeinated state. I was halfway to school (trudging through mounds of snow, mind you. I’m pretty sure that mountains sprouted in my path to make the trek uphill both ways too) before I realized I left my phone at home. Oy. With all connection to the outside world thus severed, a soldiered on. I breezed into class 7 minutes behind schedule and was greeted with groans from all my students who had been crossing their fingers in hopes that I wouldn’t show. I wanted to be there probably less than they did, but hey, being an (almost) adult means taking care of your responsibilities right? I let them out early, dropped my stuff off in my office and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and that’s when I saw it. I had taught the ENTIRE class with my shirt inside out! Geeze, what a morning.
So now, I’m sitting contentedly in the computer lab, cup of blessed coffee in my hand, and blogging to the world about my experiences because sometimes life as a grad student is too amusing not to share with people 
music
Try to define it, seek in vain its source
or where it vanishes. By formulas
and theories tell me what it is I breathe,
what makes the stars bright, why the waves are long
unending servants of a master-moon.
Tell me why I love, why I see blue
in a sky where no blue is, but only light.
Tell me my pen is nothing but a force
my hand (which is not either) works upon,
and that the keys my fingers linger on
are never ivory, but are molecules
“gyrating in a predetermined form.”
Tell me the scent of lilacs is not real
but only a fusion working on my sense.
Tell me the fresh green of a new spring lawn
is chlorophyll. Tell me turgidity
makes hyacinths stand stiff beside the path.
Tell me all this. I shall believe you true
and grant you what you say. But music – there
try to define it! Seek in vain its source,
its essence, where it waits for my two hands
to call it forth from yellowed, singing keys.
Put it in tubes, solve its complexities,
tell what its structure is – yes, if God will.
But you can hound it down the path of years
and curse and stamp. It shall elude you still.
- Jane Tyson Clement
