Sunday, August 21, 2005

On my mind

I thought I'd repost something relevant from this past January about the best part of the school year, which has everything to do with books. This fall is a good one for the sheer number of books I have been instructed to buy and for the fact that most of them look fascinating.

My favorite time of the school year

It's actually the beginnning of each semester (or trimester, quad, whatever) when one is given one's syllabi and commanded to go forth and buy books. (In addition, one is generally less stressed than usual during this time.) Yeah, it means parting with a good deal of money, but there are few things that put me in a better mood than returning home with arms laden with the texts for my new classes, even when there are some that I wouldn't have probably chosen on my own. Nearly any excuse to indulge my book fetish and improve the size of my library is a good one. I'm not the sort of person who routinely gets feelings classified as warm and fuzzy*, but if I were to experience the warm fuzzies, they'd have the best chance of happening on syllabi day. Something else I enjoy around this time of year is getting the chance to see what my schedule and workload will look like for the next four-odd months. The workload isn't always pleasant, mind you, but I like to know what's coming at later intervals in the semester, even if it appears that it'll be excruciatingly painful (and if so, that gives me time to consider dropping a class).

Another nice thing is that since I'm a TA, I am given teacher's editions and all sorts of supplementary materials. And every time there's a textbook change (not that often), I am gifted with a whole new set. I wouldn't exactly call these textbooks fun, but still... they're books. And they're mine.

*For a reason that I have trouble understanding, let alone articulating, the word fuzzy (definitions 1 and 2 especially) has a very negative connotation for me. It makes me think of stuffed animals owned by friends I had in early elementary school. Apparently, that's a bad thing... I have no idea why, and my instincts lead me to doubt that "repressed memories" is the answer.