Hi, my name is _______

I don't think I'm ready for the semester to begin, but it has, so I'm dealing. Actually, I'm being a baby. My classes seem like they're going to be really interesting, and the professors are lovely characters. One of my professors passed around little placards with our names on them for our desks. It was odd, but in a very endearing way, like he cared to actually know us. At least that's how I'm trying to think of it. Last year, I would have thought that he was doing it to make the shame of our classroom missteps even more painful, as in, "Oh, wait, Roe v. Wade isn't about boating?* Crap. And yes, my name is Jack Jackson. See, it's right here on the Model U.N.-style placard. Hi." But this is not how I think anymore. Because it's 2005, and I am not negative and paranoid anymore...

This is funny.

*I refuse to accept responsibility for that joke. It is (inexplicably) about 12 degrees in my apartment right now, and I am sleepy. Yes.