The First Week: Life Behind a Closed Door

Am I officially the last person on earth to finally Simpsonize myself? And my dog? It seemed like a good visual for my first week earning my keep from Lord Jeff. As the week draws to a close, I find myself miraculously still standing despite the mounds of work threatening to topple me, going through my "good" clothes very quickly, and enjoying the sights and sounds of an office with a door. Not only a door, but a nameplate, too, which I may or may not have audibly cheered upon seeing for the first time. On the heels of grad school, every time someone offers to make a copy for me, provides me with an endless array of free office supplies (Door stop? Check. One of those tray things with the in and the out and the racks? Check. Fancy post-it note dispenser? Check.), informs me that buying 10 Almodóvar movies on Amazon (and watching them) is considered part of the job, tells me I can check that book out for a year, and reminds me I have a TA to grade quizzes, I feel a little like I'm taking advantage of them. I think I can pinpoint the moment I realized I wasn't at Cal anymore: Monday night, 7:30, as I found myself amid the surreal scene at convocation, with a chapel full of dusty professors in mismatched regalia sweating through layer upon velvety-striped layer of polyester as President Marx told the class of 2011 they were certified geniuses. Where am I?

As for the classes and students this week, it pretty much went down just as Josh envisioned it, minus the singing. And the quill. Well, and the automatic tenure. Yeah, it was nothing like that, but it could have been. Maybe they'll give me another door! An even better door!