Friday, June 24, 2011


The good news—no, it's great, actually—is that we've been here before. We aren't nervous or unsure or confused. We know that the Wolford building is cold and then hot and then cold again. We know each other. We know that breakfast is served in White Hall at 8. We know what our advisor looks like. We know where Doble is. We know that workshop isn't painful. And we know that it's not the end of the world if we skip an evening reading.

So it's comfortable. It's easy that way. And though this sounds corny (and, really, it is): it's home—if you define home as a place where you don't need to explain yourself. And we do.

We don't need to fumble through an explanation of how a low-res MFA works. We don't need to remind loved ones that our homework is real homework even if we don't go to class every day. We don't need to slog through the daily duality of school and work. We don't need to answer that question: So what are you going to do with your degree?

We're happy about all these don'ts.

Oh, we're happy to be home.

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