danajohnhill.org

Today was my mandatory $35 “Preview” at the University of Florida.  The morning was spent in sessions at the Reitz Union Grand Ballroom.  A breakfast was promised, but, alas, it consisted of bad-tasting muffins and equally uninspiring orange juice.  Also, much too much time was wasted covering topics that any human being capable of bathing his or her self–much less be accepted at a prestigious university–ought to have a firm grasp of already.  I read the newspaper.

Later, while others broke off into groups for presentations about joining ROTC, preparing for law school, finding off-campus housing, or taking walking tour of campus, I stepped across the lawn and got some work done at the station for an hour.  I’ve worked on campus for over seven years, driving over 20,000 miles (not an exaggeration; I used to keep a vehicle log).  If I don’t know where something is at this point, I probably don’t need to go there.

After lunch with Mrs. Hill, I attended the actual useful portion of the orientation, in which staff from the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences explain some of the ins and outs of the program.  We all filled out pieces of yellow paper with our names and UF ID numbers, and an advisor went off and removed the holds that had prevented all us from registering for classes up to that point.  Then it was off to Turlington Hall to meet with the advisors from the English Department, who all had excellent diction.  I even chatted a bit with some of my fellow English majors.  I registered for a course called “Shakespearean Rhetoric”, but, lamentably, the children’s literature course was full.

So, barring some epic, Brechtian disaster, I become a student of the University of Florida on January 7, 2008.  Huzzah!

Literally!  And by “it”, I mean my arm…with a needle full of vaccine for measles, mumps and rubella.  I probably would have preferred not to have to undergo this procedure which actually was quite painful, but they made me do it by blocking me from registration until I could prove I’d had it.  So, to the Infirmary I went, where the nurse admitted it would be painful.  She was right.  It wasn’t the sharp needle that hurt, but the injection itself: I could feel the cold vaccine going into my arm.

Say what you want about Santa Fe Community College–and I say they suck all the time–but they don’t require injections.  Then again, maybe they just don’t care.  Then again, again, maybe UF just wants the $75 fee I paid.

Today is the birthday of my friend Burt. I hear we’re going to get to see him at Steve and Kathleen’s wedding next month, and we’re looking forward to that.  It’s been over a year.

Also in the works is a trip to Chicago in June for several days, which promises more Burt-fueled mayhem, mayhem, mayhem.