Attending a seminar, or any lecture-like sitting activity, is hard once you’ve gone all graduate student-y and calculates alone in room-y and let go of that old mental steel, that perverse bloodymindedness which let you sit up sharp at 8 o’clock every morning in your hazy undergraduate days, just for the joy of hearing the others’ tired moans and snores of suffering.
(Snores of suffering? Oy vey.)
Or maybe five hours of sleep are the explanation; why am I never sleepy when I should lay my head down, and always sandman-stricken when I should get up? One of the ineffable mysteries of life, maybe?
Tangentially related professorial quote for the week, from the very same seminar of today:
“I am probably the world master in sleeping.”
