My god, how can I be this tired already? Could it be the strangest karaoke night ever? Which involved furtively moving the karaoke set-up to a soundproof bunker after the world's most empowered security guard threatened to call the cops? Maybe. Our class (sans a certain WUSS) did "Mary Had a Little Lamb," which Gene somehow managed to make twisted and scary. Or perhaps that was just the lyrics.
(Why is it that all classic kids' song lyrics can be easily interpreted as double entendres? Why?)
Still, I was in bed by 11:30, so that can't be it, because that would mean I'm OLD.
And I don't get OLD until tomorrow. Well, OLDER, anyway. And I forgot my tiara.
One of the interesting things about low residency programs is that they seem to accrue traditions constantly. Perhaps it's because people aren't together enough to get truly sick and tired of seeing each other, and so have a greater interest in doing nice things when the time comes. One of our school's traditions is that the fourth semester class throws the Saturday night party in honor of the graduating class. My class has seven people in it (only six of who are here -- sob, we miss Kate immensely). We're throwing the party for about 150 people (all the current students and a whole slew of alumni here for a mini-residency over the weekend).
Should be fun. And, yes, I do plan to have a stash of my own birthday champers somewhere.
Tonight there's the big auction though, benefiting the scholarship fund, with co-masters of ceremony Tobin Anderson and Tim Wynne-Jones; my contribution to it was actually the fabulous Sharyn November's contribution -- she was nice enough to send a big bunch of ARCs and books to go as a set. That should be big fun too.
And now off to a lecture, and to continue obsessing over who to choose as my creative thesis advisor. Decisions, decisions, as they say...