No Sleep til Brooklyn

Sometimes I honestly think I just write this thing so I have an excuse to come up with pithy titles that more than likely only I think are funny. I think having just said that I'm definitely making a good choice delving into the world of academia.You all know that I love the sound of my own voice. I wonder if there's a verbal equivalent of Narcissus?

I'm sitting at the computer of my gracious Arkansas host Chad and staring at his Michael Fox-sized monitor. Seriously, the thing has got to be 42 inches wide. I'd love to say it's dumb...but, well, ok, actually it is kinda dumb. That felt good. I just am, I think, so excited about this whole process. It's not even like there have been any moments of clarity, epiphanies, or other revelations. It's simply that I feel so proud to be out of the rut I got into and was in for the last five years.

Today was the grin and greet with the faculty and other prospectives. We met up at this great place called "The Hoghaus" - a sort of pseudo German microbrewery restaraunt with hand-crafted brews and tasty sandwiches (even had some cheesecake for dessert). The schedule didn't have us meeting until 6pm so I took advantage of the day by roaming the town on foot and simply taking it all in. It's quite the quaint little town. Actually I've always sort of hated the word quaint. It's like cute's more sophisticated sister. Except that really it means pretty much the same damn thing. I digress. So the historic (that's better) downtown area surrounding the campus is almost entirely brick, well-preserved, and clean. Not clean in the clinical sense, but well taken care of. It was nice to be outside and listen to the wind, read the historical plaques on the buildings, and do my best to let go of my need to evaluate every minute of this experience and just imagine: what would this place really be like? Ok, I guess that's kind of evaluating too- but you know what I mean.

So I walked for near an hour in the crisp winter air (around 28 today) and thorougly enjoyed imagining myself in tweed sport coats, walking around with a leather brief case from building to building with one of those look-at-me-i'm-so-busy-and-important kinda walks. Nice. And then, at my host's suggestion, I went and checked out the local used bookstore- Dickson Street Used Bookstore. Filled with books from vaulted ceiling to their oddly carpeted floor, this place has everything from erotic novels to local paper archives to portuguese-english dictionaries. Awesome. It has one of those classic used bookstore musty, dusty smells. And, of course, who better to be working there than one of the asocial local students with the kind of perfect smug, indie look that we all expect from a bookstore. Perfect.

I bought "The History of Mexico" and a Spanish-English dictionary for a grand total of like 13 dollars and took the books across the street to the only "coffee shop" on the downtown block. This was hilarious. I come in and I'm pretty sure it was Motely Crue playing and I went to the counter to order. I stand there and notice one of the workers walking my way with an expression on her face that said something like: "uh, can we help you!?". And then she did ask me some version of that question. I'm like: "Yeah, I'd just like a cup of coffee for here please." And she's all: "Well, you can go ahead and have a seat, we're actually a restaraunt and we'll come to your table." As if the music wasn't cue enough, I knew when the girl brought me my mug and a 3 dollar bill for it (and, of course, the music has now changed to a much more coffee shop-friendly Paula Abdul song) that this was not the place I wanted to be. I paid the bill and followed Paula's timely advice: "c'mon baby let's get away."

Last night we went to a cool bar just two doors down called "Brewskis" with like 75 beers on tap. I heard everything from Beck to Van Morrison to Thievery Corp. to The Shins all in like the first 20 minutes. Perfect. Plus, the old black dude from New Orleans I talked sports with last night is there watching the Lakers pummel the Spurs. Perfect. So I sit down order up a pint and relax. It's like 3:30pm at this point (for those of you concerned I might be turning into a barfly). Only problem now is that I've got to pace myself because any of you who have ever had the misfortune to watch me drink (or eat for that matter) know that I do everything at pretty much the same speed, that is to say, fast. So I ask if I can pull up a seat and Lourde (could be spelled differently but I'm pretty sure this is how it's spelled) thankfully remembers me from the night before...and apparently, fondly so. He starts in on his analysis of the game which is mostly decipherable despite his thick New Orlean's accent, not to mention the whiskey and beer he's clearly been drinking for some time now. But I get a kick out of getting him talking about sports, life growing up in New Orleans, and his family. I find out that he's been here in Fayetteville since Katrina- or rather- because of Katrina. He's 68 and barely communicates with any family other than his 26 year-old son who lives outside of Hattiesburg, MS. I watch him get somewhat agitated and sad reflecting the separation from his wife and 5 other children, but just sit and listen. I am just always so grateful for little moments like this. I soak up chatting with Lourde while continuing to keep an a eye on my beer and the time. I can just see myself getting caught up in some sermon on the barstool scenario, and totally showing up late for the dinner right next door.

So long story longer, I do get caught up in said barstool scenario, but am able to sneak away at like 2 past 6pm. I pay my tab, thank Lourde for letting me pick his brain, and head down the street to the dinner. My host Chad is just coming down the stairs as I am heading up them, ostensibly to make sure I am indeed coming to dinner. Funny.

Well, some of you who are more detail-oriented may at this point (or did right away) notice that it is indeed 3 am Central Time here in Fayettevill, AR. And I think after the tea I've been sipping and the neurotic typing I've just enagaged in, has brought me, at last, to a place I call Sleepytown. But suffice it to say, the dinner went well, I chatted up Professor Tim Cavell (for those of you interested in the research areas I'm looking at studying you should google Dr. Tim Cavell- it's cool stuff) and everyone was just getting settled into their seats as I walked in. Perfect. So the big day of interviewing is tomorrow and I am encouraged by my sense of excitement simply about the process. It's a real honor to be here and to feel in some strange ways a bit like a celebrity. I'm soaking it all in and thinking of how everything has come together to lead me here. I've been thinking about the last truly transformative year I've had in my life and I am certain it was my freshman year of college. I'm already getting a new version of the strange sense of excitement, curiosity, and potential that came with starting college and a transformative chapter in my life. But I better get off this damn machine and sleep before I get all riled up again.

If you've read to this point- I hope I made it worth your while.

Ike