A memoir, of sorts
My first confession (and we all know what Foucault said about confession): I did drop out of the Ivy League, but I also did the unimaginative thing and returned to finish my degree. I finished pretty well, too. I was in the running for valedictorian in my senior year. What I have to say is not so much about dropping out or going back. It isn’t even about how the Ivy League, with its overinflated ego, its excess of wind, failed me. I guess it’s about the tragi-comedy of being a complicated person. I’ll share some memories here, some sketches from a life, and some very strange turns in the road. Some of it’s humiliating, some of it’s surprising. A memoir, of sorts, but a pointed one, I hope. I wish I could say that Gandalf good-humoredly knocked on my door and maneuvered me into going on an adventure. It wasn’t quite like that.