While Walking in the Sun

Alternate Title: How I have become awkwardly old, while still painfully young.

I thought I was late for my bus today. I got to my stop two minutes early, and I was so proud of myself. Not that it mattered which bus I caught, because I just had to go to the library and do photocopying, but I was proud of myself that I was on time to catch the "Good Bus."

You see, I live between two bus routes. One route, the "Good Bus," takes less time to get to the University, and is generally uncrowded. However, it only comes once every half-hour, and it has a tendency of running a bit early, and so I often miss it. Therefore, I normally take the "Bad Bus." Now, the "Bad Bus" isn't altogether bad. It often comes every ten minutes, and often that bus is a double-decker. But then I'm on the bus for longer, it's generally quite crowded, and the schedule is sometimes messed up. Sometimes it even decides not to stop for me, because it's too full, and then I'm in trouble.

But today, I was convinced that I was on time for the "Good Bus." Until it didn't show up. Ten minutes later, the other guy at the bus stop started walking toward the "Bad Bus" route. I decided, on the other hand, to start walking toward the University. It's only a half an hour walk, although part of it is uphill which can be difficult if I'm carrying anything, but I could take a break half-way there, at a stop where several bus routes come by and go to the University. I ended up only walking to that stop, but the lovely sunshine cheered me up immensely. I was nearly feeling extroverted. (Although I shook my head when my bus, fifteen minutes late, barrelled past me.)

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All of that long meandering is backstory for my discovery of my personal awkwardness. You see, I sat down at the bus stop, and a friendly girl said hello. We talked about the weather, and that crazy late bus, and we both mentioned that we had no idea what to expect from Spring in Victoria. She because she's from Vancouver (and therefore is not used to seeing sunlight), and I because I'm from Saskatchewan (and therefore am not used to seeing the grass and flowers in March). She wanted to know more about Saskatchewan, because she's never been there and didn't really know much about the place. We sat together on the bus and talked about our programs, and I mentioned that I'm taking my PhD in History.

"Really?" she asked. "I'm taking a History class for the first time, and it's really hard. I just handed in my essay, and it took me so long to write it."

I, because I'm curious, asked her which kind of history she was taking.

"Canadian history," she answered.

I said that was interesting, and guessed which instructor she has. Of course I was right (pretty much the same instructor has most of the first-year Canadian history classes, right now).

"I'm one of his TAs!" I exclaimed. "I bet you're in his half-year course! I know all of that class's TAs!"

And suddenly that discussion was really awkward. Suddenly, I was no longer "some girl I sat with on the bus." Suddenly I was a TA. A TA who knows her instructor. A TA who knows whoever is currently marking her essay. (Like I would even know who specifically was marking her paper, or as if that would matter.) I was The Establishment. Suddenly, she was very cautious and respectful of me.

I should start getting used to that, shouldn't I? I'm used to students thinking that I'm just another student in the class (it's the drawback of being so young, in this field). But it's still strange for me, outside of the classroom setting. It's especially strange because it's not like I can act comfortably around the faculty, either. I'm a graduate student, and I'm stuck in this grey area, where everyone (except for my small group of fellow grad students) around me is distant and impersonal.