Three weeks into grad school. . .

. . .and I'm still alive. Exhausted, but still kickin'.

Week one: The seduction.

I obviously had tons of emotion going on the first week. I couldn't believe how nervous I was! Going back to school brought back all these anxieties about the first day of classes that I hadn't had since getting dropped off at college! Were people going to like me? Would I be dressed the right way? Was I going to make friends? Would I say something stupid? Would everyone be intellectual snobs and think I was beneath them for being into entertainment journalism (like my husband)? All this plus my general dislike of going to events knowing no one made me one big nervous nelly.

Then there was the excitement of just doing something. I've was unemployed for a good eight months, and it was something of a thrill to feel like part of the world again, to be one of the millions treking into the city to do something. And not just something. I was on my way to Times Square to become a writer, a journalist. I had a purpose again, and it felt good.

I went to school and up the elevator. The doors opened, and the whirlwind of the next 16 months of my life began. I met tons of people. They met me. They were nice. I liked them. They liked me. I ate free food. I drank free coffee. I relaxed. I sat through many lectures, some interesting (Dean's welcome) some not (Research services). I broke my laptop. I drank free booze. I spoke Spanish. I went home. I became Facebook friends with about 57 people. That was my first day.

Week Two: The Tease

My first week of classes began. I had that nagging anxiety again, but not as badly. It's the fear of the new. Cliques were forming, friendships were developing, I noticed a budding romance. I feel conflicted about this. Part of me wants to throw myself headlong into meeting people, going out for margaritas and asking people to lunch with me in Bryant Park. But I'm married. I've got my man. I have my dog. I have my friends. These people deserve my time too. But I don't want to distance myself from my new colleagues, or miss out on a new lifelong friendship because I'm so devoted to my home life. I'll figure it out. I'm meeting some cool new people. Classes were. . .classes. The same ole' introductions and class syllabi rigmarole. I am inspired by my teachers. Well, more by their other jobs than their teaching, so far. A lawyer for the New York Times here, a host for NY1 there, a writer for Brian William over to my left, and an NPR lady thrown into the mix. More than anything I wanted to jump in. I wanted to write, to report, to use all this glorious equipment I was being shown. I did my first "reporting," but it was more of a tease, asking softball question to people on the Brooklyn Promenade. Granted this was a self imposed easy assignment I gave myself. I needn't had worried. There were plenty of challenging assignments in my very near future.

Week Three: The Honeymoon's over

After getting into a nice rhythm during my first week of classes, I had a four day weekend. I spent a glorious and drunken weekend up in the Berkshires. By the evening of Labor Day, I was a nervous mess again. I was dreading another brutal current events quiz from my Craft I teacher. I poured over CNN and the New York Times, trying to absorb what humans had been during in the three days I had been unplugged from the world. Of course he gave the quiz. I did marginally better than the previous week. I love that part of my grade for a graduate level course involves knowing who Tila Tequila is (it was a bonus question, but still).

Then the first "brutal" assignment came. I had to ask strangers what they thought about Swine Flu, Obama's Education Speech, or Van Jones, and write a story incorporating quotes into the story. Going up to strangers and asking these questions was akin to slowly driving nails into my eyeballs. Extremely unpleasant. Come to think of it, it's more like approaching some hottie at the bar. You're dying to be received well, have a lively, interesting conversation and, to seal the deal, get those digits. I've always dreaded that. The approach at least. Still, I completed the assignment, and my skin thickened just the tiniest bit in the process. Every day I feel more and more like a journalist.

Now I've received my first real assignment for Broadcast! One and a half minute piece about whatever I want. Think I'm hittin up the Brooklyn Book Fair on Sunday. If you see me out in the field, come over and let me interview you. Fellow Jschoolers, how have your first three weeks been?