Tomorrow's my very last day of classes for my PhD. Insert nostalgic sigh here. I've been going to school for twenty-nine thousand years, and as the last of it ebbs away, I don't quite feel like weeping for the loss of it. I feel the world edging open, like, like ... I'm out of metaphors. I can't even metaphor anymore, that's how tapped out I am.
But it's part of that unmetaphored edging that leads me here, to a blog. It may be time to announce myself. And while I worry my life won't be entertaining enough to merit frequent posts, I'm going to do my best.
For starters, look at Pierre the Penguin. Pierre the Penguin is twenty-five--same age as me, come to think of it. And Pierre, who lives at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, was losing his feathers. His penguin buddies were picking on him, and he couldn't swim because he got too cold without the extra plumage. Can you see his bare bird bum? Poor fellow.
So, this scientist (Pam Schaller, bless her soul) made him a little wet suit out of neoprene. I think of Pierre when I feel caught without feathers, if you get my meaning. Exposed, alone in a nippy world. And right about now, when I'm off for a new adventure, moving to Utah and then Boston, leaving my quiet (but boring) tiny (but safe) Mississippi town, the world feels exciting, but nippy. Oh, for a smidge of neoprene.
For the full story on Pierre, go here.