Day 1
Today was my first day on the job. I wasn't fully undercover or doing any real work, but if anyone had asked I would've had to play the part.
Today is Friday and classes begin Monday. The logistics of completing the requirements for a BA in English at the University of Utah within one year require that I start my classes in the summer. We also decided that the summer provided an opportunity for me to make an inconspicuous entrance into the program.
This morning, knowing it would be the day I performed my first act as an (undeclared) English major, I dressed carefully. I wore a skirt, but made sure it was bohemian enough to be believable. I straightened my hair, but just enough so it was messy, but just messy enough for it to look like I didn't care what it looked like. I was studiously unstudied.
I went to the library first. I love the library. It was a glorious day.1
I took care of various errands and pulled up my schedule. I didn't know if an English major would want to hold their books as soon as possible, but my expense account is limited. I did some price comparisons and with just a little finagling had my books shipped in two days for free. I did, however, save two books for the bookstore.
I couldn't make up my mind if it would be more English majorly-like to go, as I was, on a weekend when I wouldn't be seen with the common-folk in the mundane and terribly unromantic bookstore or if it would be better to wait until after classes started so I wouldn't seem too overeager about school. Or perhaps I should want to be seen?2 Still, whichever would've been more fitting, going when the place was deserted was probably for the best.
I confess a secret love for that unromantic bookstore. There are many unsavory aspects, to be sure, but it's kind of a little land of opportunity. I used to shop for classes by looking through the required books. As usual I stopped to peruse the languages section, and wandered into the upper division English courses. I had to stop myself and giggle as I realized that for the first time I wasn't looking for the 'L"s and that not only did I have reason to look through the books on the English shelves but that I would actually be buying them. I must have looked like a loon as I danced and giggled my way around the textbook section. I really need to be more careful. I could've blown my cover.
I wasn't the only person there, however. I met my first English major as an English major. He knocked over a stack of Northanger Abbeys. I helped pick them up as he explained that he was looking for a used copy that hadn't been written-in since other people's thoughts can be so distracting. That made me laugh and he seemed like one of those older English majors that I have been warned about3 so I didn't let on that I would also be taking the Literary History 2 course during the second session of the summer semester.4
The cashier didn't bat an eye. I was slightly disappointed, but I solaced myself with the thought that I was only buying two small books and neither was very exciting, even to me.
As I left the bookstore I realized I should probably replace my backpack with something more artistic. It occurred to me that carrying a bright orange and black backpack instead of a messenger bag might give me aways as not being intellectually stimulated enough to want to appear intellectually stimulating. If I am to be accepted into their world and their inner circle, I must have something to offer them.5 On the other hand, the BYUers in Spain used to say it could pass as being European... It should last me at least until the end of the summer.
I had some civilian duties to attend to so I decided on lunch as a conclusion to the scouting mission.
At first I thought of the Pie, after all, the first time I ever went there I was meeting an English major. But without change for a meter I decided that my mysterious and confident solitude and my thoughtful scribbling in a composition notebook would be put to better use on a day when there would be other students to witness it. So I took myself to Sugarhouse as I assumed an English major would. I listened to Coldplay, Bloc Party, The Velvet Underground, and Final Fantasy6 and I was feeling pretty good. I didn't stay at the restaurant and it was just as well; the sneaking disguise posters and talk of secret agents made me worry that people were on to me. Get in. Get out. It's always safest. I guess we'll never know if the guy with a slight accent who let me go ahead in line was with his girlfriend or his sister.7
NOTES:
1- I'm going to have to curb the urge to sing loudly as I walk around campus. At least when I'm around the other English majors. I'll also have to stop smiling at people. Unless it's an ironic, intriguing, perceptive and slightly disdainful smile.
2- I'm still working on the persona. This summer will have to be a crash course before the real test of fall semester begins.
3- All of my sources in the English department (henceforth to be referred to as 'my English majors') have told me about the 'older English major' and described him as if he is an unheard-of phenomenon. Are my English majors self-absorbed or just ignorant?
4- I need to get the numbers down. These people spout off numbers so fast you'd think they were math majors and I'm always at a loss. It'll be a dead giveaway for sure. Brain washing= 2600, Literary History 1= 3701, Literary History 2= 3702. Now I just need to work on the classes I still need to take so I can make small talk.
5- Being happy and content is not what they are looking for. Perhaps just for this summer I can carry-on and pass myself off as the eccentric free spirit I always feel in the warm sunshine of summer. Once winter returns I can settle in for dark and brooding and truly come to be appreciated and revered by this new culture.
6- I'm not so worried about the music. Most of it either came from or is in accordance with my English major music guru. I'm sure there are things that I'll have to eliminate, at least from easy observation. Probably the happy music. I'll try to devise a way to ask him which things expose me as an outsider without explaining the whole mission to him. Eventually I'll have to give him, as well as my other sources, some kind of explanation as he could easily compromise my position. The one flaw is the number of people who already know me. I have spent the past few years building up contacts on the inside, but too many of them know me too well. Also, I suppose, eventually, I will have to get myself an ipod.
7- Sometimes I wish I could be more of a Mata Hari. But even if my physical appearance made that an option, my unattached status is relatively crucial to my observations.
Today is Friday and classes begin Monday. The logistics of completing the requirements for a BA in English at the University of Utah within one year require that I start my classes in the summer. We also decided that the summer provided an opportunity for me to make an inconspicuous entrance into the program.
This morning, knowing it would be the day I performed my first act as an (undeclared) English major, I dressed carefully. I wore a skirt, but made sure it was bohemian enough to be believable. I straightened my hair, but just enough so it was messy, but just messy enough for it to look like I didn't care what it looked like. I was studiously unstudied.
I went to the library first. I love the library. It was a glorious day.1
I took care of various errands and pulled up my schedule. I didn't know if an English major would want to hold their books as soon as possible, but my expense account is limited. I did some price comparisons and with just a little finagling had my books shipped in two days for free. I did, however, save two books for the bookstore.
I couldn't make up my mind if it would be more English majorly-like to go, as I was, on a weekend when I wouldn't be seen with the common-folk in the mundane and terribly unromantic bookstore or if it would be better to wait until after classes started so I wouldn't seem too overeager about school. Or perhaps I should want to be seen?2 Still, whichever would've been more fitting, going when the place was deserted was probably for the best.
I confess a secret love for that unromantic bookstore. There are many unsavory aspects, to be sure, but it's kind of a little land of opportunity. I used to shop for classes by looking through the required books. As usual I stopped to peruse the languages section, and wandered into the upper division English courses. I had to stop myself and giggle as I realized that for the first time I wasn't looking for the 'L"s and that not only did I have reason to look through the books on the English shelves but that I would actually be buying them. I must have looked like a loon as I danced and giggled my way around the textbook section. I really need to be more careful. I could've blown my cover.
I wasn't the only person there, however. I met my first English major as an English major. He knocked over a stack of Northanger Abbeys. I helped pick them up as he explained that he was looking for a used copy that hadn't been written-in since other people's thoughts can be so distracting. That made me laugh and he seemed like one of those older English majors that I have been warned about3 so I didn't let on that I would also be taking the Literary History 2 course during the second session of the summer semester.4
The cashier didn't bat an eye. I was slightly disappointed, but I solaced myself with the thought that I was only buying two small books and neither was very exciting, even to me.
As I left the bookstore I realized I should probably replace my backpack with something more artistic. It occurred to me that carrying a bright orange and black backpack instead of a messenger bag might give me aways as not being intellectually stimulated enough to want to appear intellectually stimulating. If I am to be accepted into their world and their inner circle, I must have something to offer them.5 On the other hand, the BYUers in Spain used to say it could pass as being European... It should last me at least until the end of the summer.
I had some civilian duties to attend to so I decided on lunch as a conclusion to the scouting mission.
At first I thought of the Pie, after all, the first time I ever went there I was meeting an English major. But without change for a meter I decided that my mysterious and confident solitude and my thoughtful scribbling in a composition notebook would be put to better use on a day when there would be other students to witness it. So I took myself to Sugarhouse as I assumed an English major would. I listened to Coldplay, Bloc Party, The Velvet Underground, and Final Fantasy6 and I was feeling pretty good. I didn't stay at the restaurant and it was just as well; the sneaking disguise posters and talk of secret agents made me worry that people were on to me. Get in. Get out. It's always safest. I guess we'll never know if the guy with a slight accent who let me go ahead in line was with his girlfriend or his sister.7
NOTES:
1- I'm going to have to curb the urge to sing loudly as I walk around campus. At least when I'm around the other English majors. I'll also have to stop smiling at people. Unless it's an ironic, intriguing, perceptive and slightly disdainful smile.
2- I'm still working on the persona. This summer will have to be a crash course before the real test of fall semester begins.
3- All of my sources in the English department (henceforth to be referred to as 'my English majors') have told me about the 'older English major' and described him as if he is an unheard-of phenomenon. Are my English majors self-absorbed or just ignorant?
4- I need to get the numbers down. These people spout off numbers so fast you'd think they were math majors and I'm always at a loss. It'll be a dead giveaway for sure. Brain washing= 2600, Literary History 1= 3701, Literary History 2= 3702. Now I just need to work on the classes I still need to take so I can make small talk.
5- Being happy and content is not what they are looking for. Perhaps just for this summer I can carry-on and pass myself off as the eccentric free spirit I always feel in the warm sunshine of summer. Once winter returns I can settle in for dark and brooding and truly come to be appreciated and revered by this new culture.
6- I'm not so worried about the music. Most of it either came from or is in accordance with my English major music guru. I'm sure there are things that I'll have to eliminate, at least from easy observation. Probably the happy music. I'll try to devise a way to ask him which things expose me as an outsider without explaining the whole mission to him. Eventually I'll have to give him, as well as my other sources, some kind of explanation as he could easily compromise my position. The one flaw is the number of people who already know me. I have spent the past few years building up contacts on the inside, but too many of them know me too well. Also, I suppose, eventually, I will have to get myself an ipod.
7- Sometimes I wish I could be more of a Mata Hari. But even if my physical appearance made that an option, my unattached status is relatively crucial to my observations.
posted by the anna at 23:06
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