Stony Brook

This past week, I paid a visit to dear old Stony Brook University, home of the Spanish Department That Loves Me. And, if we're gonna be brutally honest about it, I was a little underwhelmed. First things first, it's a full two-hour train ride out to the University from my humble digs in Astoria. I read my scifi book and kept myself otherwise occupied during the morning ride, but getting up at 7:30 to be at the University by 11:00 wasn't the best beginning to the day. When I got there, I took one look at the campus and cringed. There was scaffolding everywhere, holes dug through the earth as the University apparently tried to catch up somewhat awkwardly to the 21st Century. Apart from the three new buildings that had suffered through modernization, the rest were big brown Lego blocks. Not a pretty sight, coming from the medieval castles and towers of Syracuse.

This is so tremendously negative it's a wonder that I accepted their admissions offer. All that negative is on the outside; it's stuff that doesn't relate to my education or my satisfaction with the department. I was pleased with the size of the department, which was much larger than Syracuse at 30 students, and more evolved. But it was similar to Syracuse -- the students, wide-eyed, warned me about the pressures of teaching and beginning your first semester of grad school. I shrugged a little. I've already been through my first semesters of grad school, and I got through. All was as I expected it to be, apart from the utter bleakness of the campus, so I just felt sort of exhausted and blasé about the experience. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy the University and I'm happy that I get to attend, but there weren't any fireworks, nothing blindingly awful or truly amazing.

And what kind of animal is a seawolf supposed to be?