Weekend Update

My opus, my thesis, is finished. "Feminine Reading Practices and Literary Compatible Mates in The Mill on the Floss and Middlemarch." I am exhausted, brain-dead, and getting ready for a week of adventure in my old haunts in NYC. I graduate on Wednesday.

It's true...

I have spent most of my day reading dinosaur comics.



Now that I have posted that I will have to do many more postings, quickly, before the way the large image has screwed up my menu drives me insane.

Hello from the Paper-writing Front

The end of the semester is upon us! Twelve days of madness and then sweet, sweet holiday season respite.

I am currently working on two papers. One is on The Problem of Space in Oscar Wilde's Salome and The Importance of Being Earnest (due last semester...must get rid of my big, fatty incomplete). I have most of the research and outlining done on this paper, I just have to write it. Okay, that's a lie. I have some of the research and outlining done on this paper.

The other I've done a five minute presentation on, but I really just started researching it. It's on the dedicatory poems prefacing Aemelia Lanyer's Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum and her morphing of the poetics of courtship to fit a same sex but not homoerotic purpose.

I just finished a group wiki project for my Economy of 19th Century Print class. You can check it out here. It sort of proves the crazy extent of specialization expected of us in English Academia. And yet it was such interesting work.

Boo, grad school? Yay, grad school? A bit of both, as per usual.



On the Christmas shopping front:

I think this is hilarious. But is it funny if you actually have a new baby? I hope so.

So true...

Except the kendra/moth part.

Another Direction...

So, I guess it's time for the official blog announcement: I have decided what I want to do next year, where I want to go. And it's not Boston College, Brown, or Ohio. For me to have this much foresight about my life is fairly amazing. The dream has changed, it has changed significantly, and here it is...

I'm going back to Maryland to teach high school English.

I shall wait for the gasps to cease before I continue. Settle, people, settle.

I'm done with Academia. I can't imagine doing it for another five year to get my Phd, let alone the rest of my life. I love taking classes and learning new things. And, luckily, I can continue to do this the rest of my life outside of the crazy little world of Academia.

I also want to do something with my life, something that contributes to the world. Now, while I'm young and optimistic. Idealistic, even. Not yet jaded. I want to do more than write papers about obscure Victorian topics that are only read by other Phds. I've read a lot of the stuff written on George Eliot, and you know what? I'm okay with the inventory. The topics have been covered. I have nothing new to add.

But teaching high school: that makes an impact on the world. I think one of the greatest 'gifts' I was given in my middle and high school years was the love of reading and writing. Okay, I'm sure it was already in me somewhere, but it was brought out and nutured by some pretty extraordinary teachers: Ms. Winters, Mr. Jira, Mrs. Ikler, just to name a few.

I also, to my tremendous and continuing surprise, want to grow up a little. I want a real job and a real salary. I want to be part of an adult community instead of just on the outskirts. Really. This feeling shocks the hell out of me. I never thought I'd want this, but I do.

In the grand, master plan, the teaching is not forever. In the grand, master plan, I write as much as I can during the school year and constantly during my summers off. And I eventually become a published writer and then a famous, well-paid published writer, and then, finally, a famous, well-paid published writer who writes all day. But this will be after I've put my time in and served my community as a teacher. And, who knows? Maybe I'll want to keep teaching and just publish a little more slowly.

And there's something about Maryland. I love living in New York City, and I will continue to love it for my last nine months or so here. But Maryland calls me home.

So that's it. Get your NYC visits in while you can, 'cuz I'm not staying for long. That's the new life plan. Just the fact that I have a plan and am not throwing myself onto the various winds of fate and whimsy is in itself encouraging.

Yeah. That pretty much covers it.

source

For those of you playing along at home...

This semester's paper topics are:

- Adventures in Literacy: Creating a Masculine Identity of Reading in American Boy Books
- Maggie Tulliver's Patchwork Identity
- Blurg Oscar beep Wilde smergish food Blurg spectator Blippity blip Victorian Theater blurp

Some kind of disconnect

"I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent."
~ Samuel Beckett's Endgame

This line is spoken in a depressing, Absurd, mess of a play but to me it reads like a plea from a sad and beautiful love story. No such luck. Can I rip it off and use it some time? Would that be the ultimate blasphemy to Beckett: using his dialogue in some fluffy piece of chick lit? If so, then I'm in. Samuel Beckett, I spit upon you and your crazy Modernism. Roll over in your grave! Go ahead!

Here is a cheesey example, just off the top of my head, to get the corpse rolling, so to speak:

Cassandra clutched at his sleeve. "You cannot leave me, Fernando. I love you."
He pulled away and fixed her with a heartless stare. "Love. How can you speak of love?"
Again, she grabbed at him. She needed an arm, a hand- anything to keep him from leaving. "I know what I feel."
"It means nothing. Love." His laugh was heartless and bitter, so different than the gentle Fernando who held her and whispered in the night.
"I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent."

Then something about a throbbing member, moonlight, and beating hearts.

Obviously, if I do use the lines some day, it will be in much better writing than jotted off above. I just wanted to show the contempt I currently feel for Beckett. Ironic, I know, writing of my love for his lines and my contempt for him at the same time...I've suffered through a lot of Modern Drama this semester. I'll get over it.

I am so incredibly sad over our discussion in class today. We decided that Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer were destined to grow up to fight on opposite sides of the Civil War. How sad is that?

Sad in a totally different way: today I got extremely excited that I found a Broadview publication of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Because Broadview is the best. They include all sorts of junk on the reception history. Wheee!

Victorian Angst or Modern Angst?

I'm having a lot of trouble getting into The Mill on the Floss. I blame this problem on the fact that somehow, along my many years of English study, I learned the ending of the book. I don't know when; I've never had to read it for a class or anything. I have no idea what is going to happen in between the happy childhood of the spirited Maggie and her tyrannical brother Tom and the book's end...but I know where it's all going (in the Floss) and it ain't good. So what's the point?

Ah, the question a student of a higher degree in English Lit. must ask herself again and again: what's the point?

Also, I'd much rather be watching Season One of the Gilmore Girls with my roommates. I always want to tell Rory to shut up, but I need to be there sitting on the couch to do it.

When Students Get Lazy (next, on [insert network here])

I have been up for six hours and done absolutely nothing with my life.

In my defense, I injured my right foot this weekend (Google, instinct/hypochondria and consultations with Dr. My Roommate have diagnosed said injury as a 'bone bruise'), so I wanted to take it real easy with the whole motion thing today.

On the other hand, studying/reading for class requires absolutely NO leaving of the couch, and I haven't been doing any of that either.

I actually have done a little work on my maid of honor duties for my friend's upcoming wedding. Not enough to justify an entire day, however.

Those Crackpots and These Men

I love the guys in my grad school classes. Well, the ones I actually know and spend time with socially.

They are a new and unusual phenomenon.

I have never before been friends with men in my field. There were about two of them in the English department back in undergrad. My male friends were in other fields or in theater. I discussed literature with women outside of class (I remember one incident that involved yelling over the resolution of Jane Eyre in the Quad) but not so much with the other gender.

It's just so refreshing to talk to men who are interested in literature (and most of them more interested in literature than I am) and then have a beer and talk about television (postmodern aesthetics of LOST or just general plot points) or stupid drunk things we did at parties and then talk about our take on Derrida.

Anyway, I'm spending the weekend in bed with Wallace Stevens. Or on the couch. And I'll probably mix some 10 Things I Hate About You in there, since it is my paper writing Muse.

But for some reason, I can't sleep right now, even though I'm exhausted. So guess which West Wing episode I'm watching?

No Sleep...til Christmas!

It's official.

The worst thing about making the transition from college to two years in the 'real world' (notice the quotes) to grad school is not learning to study again, or learning to write papers again...it is nothing academic at all.

The worst thing is that I had gotten into a regular sleep pattern: early to bed and early to rise (at least very early compared to my college years). And now I've thrown that all away to return to college's motto of: We'll sleep when we're dead/all the work is done/we have a blessed free weekend. I'm again catching snatches of sleep between the hours of 3:30 and 9 (AM). And it's a lot harder than it used to be.

Role Call...

3 Negative Ways in which Graduate School has Affected My Life:
- Dirty, Messy Mess. Today was the first time I've done laundry in a long, long time. How long, you may ask? Well, I pulled 27 pairs of underwear out of the dryer (and that answer will teach you to ask such personal questions).
- Extreme Poverty. Recently I discovered how much more money than me my roommates make (how much more money my roommates make than me? I can't structure this sentence properly). I wasn't being nosy or anything- they offered the info. I am poor.
- Exhaustion. Tired from these late nights doing homework, I fell asleep on the subway on the ride home today. Fell asleep sitting with my backpack wedged between my feet, to keep it from getting stolen. Sitting wearing my just below knee length black skirt. I'm sure sometime during that lovely little nap, I flashed a large portion of the N train. So...Exhausted and Accidentally Slutty.

Everybody knows this is Nowhere...

How, how, HOW did it get to be October already?

This means the semester is practically over. Which means, really, my master's degree is almost finished. Which means I seriously have to consider what my next step is going to be...

Seriously.

Anyway, I'm worried about my hair. This morning, I was watching some quality TV during a homework break- the classic film Camp Nowhere to be exact- and I couldn't help but notice shades of resemblance between my style and the boy who played Mud. I have nineties preteen boy hair.

Also, I've taken to dressing in what I call 'Graduate School Chic', which means, when not at work, I wear clothing that just barely identifies me as human.

I am a fetus of unattractive mess.

AND it's October.

Some Classy Questions

Okay, I have a week of classes and what feels like a week worth’s of homework (already) under my belt. So now the questions…

Can I do this? Do I want to? What’s the point? Am I a scholar? Will I be a scholar? Do I want a Phd? Is the boy with the tattoos on his arms really as good-looking as I think he is? What is the foreign language requirement, exactly? How about the guy who sits down at the end of the seminar table- is he attractive? Does the fact that my homework bores me indicate that I am not cut out for scholarly pursuits? Does the fact that the overall idea of this program is terribly exciting mean that I am perfectly cut out for graduate studies or just in love with the idea of graduate studies? Is there any point in making friends outside of my department? Is there any point in making friends inside of my department? Aren't they the competition? Why does the W run to 8th street, but the N doesn’t? Why did I only figure this out on the first day of class, making me late for class? Is it okay to feel this overworked and overwhelmed after just the first week?

Everybody wants to rule the world...

I am at work for another half an hour. Today, it's a big private investing firm on Park Ave. with lovely fountains outside. The kitchen is extremely well-stocked...for lunch, I had a salad with avocado, tomato, blackened chicken, bleu cheese...and fresh mango! And fabulous snacks- yogurts and candy and pita chips. If I didn't have somewhere to go after work tonight, I'd probably rob the place blind.

I am so bored. The phone has not made a peep in the past two hours.

Yesterday, I spent a great day in the city with one of my roommates. We started out with lunch at Max Brenner's. Max Brenner may be my soulmate- he has my exact views on life, writing and chocolate. The food was absolutely divine. I had the dark chocolat drink (their specialty- it is hot chocolate served light and foamy, like cappucino, in what is called a 'hug mug') and a sweet potato crepe. My roommate had a mocha drink (served in a similar frothy fashion) and the salmon quiche. Di-vine.

While still enjoying our chocolate high, we went shoe shopping (more shoes...but I NEEDED them for work) and bought the rest of my books at the NYU bookstore.

I am starting to be a little nervous about my grad classes. Some of my books are scary. The readings I have to do for the first class of Seduction in the Age of Revolution are scary. I am worried that everyone will be smarter than me, and that is also- you guessed it- scary. I've always been smart English girl. If everyone else is smart English...how do I compete? And by compete, I mean win...

Tonight we are going out to Dallas BBQ in the Village, and I expect to meet a lot of my roommates' friends. Yay! Other plans for this weekend: none. So far. I'm almost afraid to do much, since I know that once classes start, I will never rest again...

Just Call me Oddjob...

Ah, this is the life.

I've upped my hours at the office to cover the phones while the receptionist recovers from surgery. I'm still doing my marketing work. I've picked up an SAT tutoring gig ($45 an hour). I have a big old check in my purse from my freelance work at the Baltimore Opera company. This weekend, I will get paid for handing out flyers and bartending.

If I could only stop ordering Indian food, I might be able to break even...some day...

Probably not.

But the point is, I love doing this: having my hand in many different pies, or whatever the expression is. I think this is why I'm so suited for life as a permanent student: as long as I'm taking a couple different courses, I feel fulfilled. When I'm just doing one thing- one type of job, for instance- I get terribly bored. I need my life made up of as many little different pieces as possible.

Lately, I've been working on selecting some of next year's little pieces; I've been picking out my schedule for my first semester at NYU. In college, schedule time was awesome. The day our course booklets came in the mail was kind of like Christmas. This might be partially due to the fact that I was (and still am, let's face it) an Honors Kid.

My friends and I would take our course books and gather in someone's common room. Probably a rerun of The West Wing was on. And we'd sit there for hours, exclaiming over our choices and planning and planning.

Registration for NYU has been a little more frantic. The already enrolled students got to start registering on April 17th. So yesterday, when I got my registration info, I took about half an hour to read over my choices and then I just started clicking on courses. Currently I'm registered for two: my mandatory MA seminar and a class on the American Renassiance, which I'm pretty sure I don't want to take. I'm waitlisted for The Novel and the Culture of War (started as number eight on the list, and I'm already down to number six!) and I'm in an email discussion with a professor about whether I should take a class on Seduction in the Age of Revolution that generally only Phd students are allowed to take.

Absolutely no one is interested in all those courses except me (and the people ahead of me on the wait list), so if you are still reading, I'm impressed.

I shall reward you with a little song.

What do you do with a B.A. in English?
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college and plenty of knowledge
Have earned me this useless degree.
I can't pay the bills yet,
Cuz I've got no skills yet.
The world is a big scary place...
But somehow I can't shake
The feeling I might make
A difference to the human race!

~ Avenue Q

And I'll be even more useless with an MA in English!