Inside Higher Ed
June 20th, 2015
In the summer of 1996, I spent two weeks driving around Greece with
my girlfriend and my undergraduate adviser. We argued all the time: me
and my girlfriend; me and my adviser; my girlfriend and my adviser. One
stop was particularly memorable for its unenjoyableness. We spent a day
and a night at Monemvasia, a fortified Crusader town on a massive rock
off the coast. The whole time, my adviser berated me to learn more about
the extensive history of the place and turned his nose up at my
girlfriend, who wanted to find a nightclub on the island.
To be fair, my adviser was not actually on the trip. He was in my
head, or rather, I had internalized him. I couldn’t have a conversation
without hearing him remark on the substance (or lack thereof) of my
comments. He haunted my relationships and my thoughts. I carried him
everywhere, like Anchises on my shoulders.