nothing in mailbox, save warning from Ms. Keenan that one "can't win 'most stressed' in high school AND college."
have developed strange tic in left eye. i kid you (pl.) not, double-majoring can be hazardous to your health.
If, on a winter's night a traveler outside the town of Malbork, leaning from a steep slope without fear of wind or vertigo, looks down into the gathering shadow...on the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon around an empty grave, what story there awaits its end? -italo calvino
Friday, April 09, 2004
So what if I'm avoiding the mail?
TFA letters were postmarked yesterday, and by my expert calculations it shouldn't take more than 2 days for it to get from New York to Philly. Scary shit, and I'm really trying hard to imagine my rejection letter, and not dream of palm trees and salsa, and grown-up clothing.
Watched another stellar movie this morning in film class, "Fury" by Fritz Lang. Quality shit.
She: "I'm hard to get rid of"
He: "I know, you're like my right arm...only I need you more."
Then we talked about phallic symbolism in "The Little Mermaid" for 20 minutes, and went home. How much fucking better does that get? Freud, cinema, and early departures? That's what I thought.
As mentioned before, I knew that if I came back to campus I'd go straight to the mailbox and be 1. disappointed that there was something in my mailbox, or 2. dissappointed that there wasn't something in my mailbox. Instead, SHOPPING! Fresh fruit at the supermarket, plus sushi for lunch, then I indulged my desire to scope out the spring fashions at Suburban Square (oh, and Suburban in every sense of the word) which was super duper fun. The only thing I hate about that place is that everyone gets dressed up to go shopping. And here I stroll in from class, not having showered and wearing jeans and a t-shirt, [gasp, horrors] no makeup! Scandal. I think that I actually might have gotten sneered at in Ann Taylor. Whatever, dude.
Feeling quite proud of myself for resisting the oh-so-cute skirts and summery dresses (people, it's still *cold* here), and only indulging in 2 half-priced tank tops from Gap, I returned to my ghetto-van with an air of triumph and a cup of white chocolate mousse from TCBY. That shit is soooooo good. THEN, topping off my culinary lunch, I break out the sushi when I get home.
Now this is Farmers' Market pretentious sushi, and I've been less than impressed with Mainline sushi products as of late, so I was a little irked to shell out 6 bucks for 8 tiny rolls. Oh, woe be unto me me to ever doubt "Genji Express" again. This is how sushi takeout should be done: a soy sauce cup provided, decent non-splinter chopsticks, not-toot-tangy ginger, and fresh, tasty tender fish. It was so good that I wanted to clean my palate with the ginger in between fish flavors (salmon, whiting, and tuna) so that I could savor each one in their separate glory: salmon straight up or with a hint of soy; whiting with shaved green onions (plain!); and tuna with a touch of wasabi, or plain soy. Sigh. And the seaweed wrap was still pliant, that's how recently they'd made that shit. I [heart].
Plus, and this is a real winner, Kaitlyn Luther, roommate extraordinaire, scoured the kitchen and master plumber David Henry temporarily fixed our eternally dripping bathroom sink. Wow. Now, if my room were only clean that would make one hell of a functional apartment.
Had a very productive and revelatory evening in the INSC last night working on the tesis until the library closed at 1:00 am, let's hope today's efforts go well too.
But I've still got to check my mail...
Watched another stellar movie this morning in film class, "Fury" by Fritz Lang. Quality shit.
She: "I'm hard to get rid of"
He: "I know, you're like my right arm...only I need you more."
Then we talked about phallic symbolism in "The Little Mermaid" for 20 minutes, and went home. How much fucking better does that get? Freud, cinema, and early departures? That's what I thought.
As mentioned before, I knew that if I came back to campus I'd go straight to the mailbox and be 1. disappointed that there was something in my mailbox, or 2. dissappointed that there wasn't something in my mailbox. Instead, SHOPPING! Fresh fruit at the supermarket, plus sushi for lunch, then I indulged my desire to scope out the spring fashions at Suburban Square (oh, and Suburban in every sense of the word) which was super duper fun. The only thing I hate about that place is that everyone gets dressed up to go shopping. And here I stroll in from class, not having showered and wearing jeans and a t-shirt, [gasp, horrors] no makeup! Scandal. I think that I actually might have gotten sneered at in Ann Taylor. Whatever, dude.
Feeling quite proud of myself for resisting the oh-so-cute skirts and summery dresses (people, it's still *cold* here), and only indulging in 2 half-priced tank tops from Gap, I returned to my ghetto-van with an air of triumph and a cup of white chocolate mousse from TCBY. That shit is soooooo good. THEN, topping off my culinary lunch, I break out the sushi when I get home.
Now this is Farmers' Market pretentious sushi, and I've been less than impressed with Mainline sushi products as of late, so I was a little irked to shell out 6 bucks for 8 tiny rolls. Oh, woe be unto me me to ever doubt "Genji Express" again. This is how sushi takeout should be done: a soy sauce cup provided, decent non-splinter chopsticks, not-toot-tangy ginger, and fresh, tasty tender fish. It was so good that I wanted to clean my palate with the ginger in between fish flavors (salmon, whiting, and tuna) so that I could savor each one in their separate glory: salmon straight up or with a hint of soy; whiting with shaved green onions (plain!); and tuna with a touch of wasabi, or plain soy. Sigh. And the seaweed wrap was still pliant, that's how recently they'd made that shit. I [heart].
Plus, and this is a real winner, Kaitlyn Luther, roommate extraordinaire, scoured the kitchen and master plumber David Henry temporarily fixed our eternally dripping bathroom sink. Wow. Now, if my room were only clean that would make one hell of a functional apartment.
Had a very productive and revelatory evening in the INSC last night working on the tesis until the library closed at 1:00 am, let's hope today's efforts go well too.
But I've still got to check my mail...
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
"These 10 days are going to be the longest 10 days of your life"
Said Rachael the wise, when I was in the midst of thesis hell yesterday. I skipped SeniorSem, dragged my tired ass to the drycleaner's, and then came home to address the chaos known as La Tesis. I sat on my couch, facing the window at 5:45 as the sun was just beginning to set, resigned to at least reading over the rough draft that I'd handed in over a week ago, and somewhere around page 12 I fell dead asleep. Kaitlyn, looking very worried that I'd been napping from 12-6:30, woke me up circa sunset, with a dubious "did you mean to fall asleep?" Yes, yes I did. Three hours later, after the sun was fully set (8:36), I regained consciousness.
Feeling pretty bummed about my unpolished, unfinished, and thoroughly incomplete CompLit draft that I handed in, instead of jumping headlong into cutting down the Spanish, I made my prerequisite phone calls to padre (yes, i'm still alive, yes, I've got medicine now) and the boy (yes, i'm still alive, no, i haven't done any work) before performing a full on amputation on the Tesis. It was ugly, it was painful, and I lost about 9 pages in the process. That's 1/3 of what I've written this YEAR. Yikes. Um, shit?
The only thing that sustained me through the process, other than a ganache-covered strawberry, was reminding myself of the extraordinarily brilliant Flash of the Obvious that I'd had with regards to the CompLit monstrosity last week. It dawned on me, right in the middle of class, while we were debating about endnotes vs. footnotes, and the proper documentation for translations [inner monologue: why the FUCK do I care, it's just our damn thesis?] that we're in training for writing those same sorts of journal articles that we've been reading for 4 years.
What's that,Thea? You just realized that you're supposed to have learned something in the past 8 semesters? That in graduating with a BA in two humanities majors you should (reasonably) be expected to write a paper that looks professional? Sigh. It takes me a long time to catch on to these things, ya know? The idea that my finished product should be formally and functionally a solid work did quite a good job in getting my ass motivated to tighten up my habitually loose ends regarding paper writing. I have this tendency to leave things like (Borges, ??) in drafts instead of ("Menard," 56). And I can't even fully communicate the chagrin that I feel with regards to my grammar the past semester in Spanish. Graciela must want to kill me, seriously.
So while I may have lost a great deal of work, I'd rather lose it now and replace it with something that's actually academically respectable, instead of borderline fluff. Goal = 30 pages by Saturday night. You can do it!
[3 down, 8 to go]
Feeling pretty bummed about my unpolished, unfinished, and thoroughly incomplete CompLit draft that I handed in, instead of jumping headlong into cutting down the Spanish, I made my prerequisite phone calls to padre (yes, i'm still alive, yes, I've got medicine now) and the boy (yes, i'm still alive, no, i haven't done any work) before performing a full on amputation on the Tesis. It was ugly, it was painful, and I lost about 9 pages in the process. That's 1/3 of what I've written this YEAR. Yikes. Um, shit?
The only thing that sustained me through the process, other than a ganache-covered strawberry, was reminding myself of the extraordinarily brilliant Flash of the Obvious that I'd had with regards to the CompLit monstrosity last week. It dawned on me, right in the middle of class, while we were debating about endnotes vs. footnotes, and the proper documentation for translations [inner monologue: why the FUCK do I care, it's just our damn thesis?] that we're in training for writing those same sorts of journal articles that we've been reading for 4 years.
What's that,Thea? You just realized that you're supposed to have learned something in the past 8 semesters? That in graduating with a BA in two humanities majors you should (reasonably) be expected to write a paper that looks professional? Sigh. It takes me a long time to catch on to these things, ya know? The idea that my finished product should be formally and functionally a solid work did quite a good job in getting my ass motivated to tighten up my habitually loose ends regarding paper writing. I have this tendency to leave things like (Borges, ??) in drafts instead of ("Menard," 56). And I can't even fully communicate the chagrin that I feel with regards to my grammar the past semester in Spanish. Graciela must want to kill me, seriously.
So while I may have lost a great deal of work, I'd rather lose it now and replace it with something that's actually academically respectable, instead of borderline fluff. Goal = 30 pages by Saturday night. You can do it!
[3 down, 8 to go]
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
a brief respite
I never figured myself for being one to echo commercial jingles, but thank god for antihistamines. Aaaaaah, Allegra!. Now that I can actually concentrate on my work, instead of taking oatmeal baths and fuh-reaking out about what needs to be done by Thursday, things are getting accomplished. Popped a couple of allergy pills this morning, got some (more) sleep, and am plodding through the CompLit rough that's due at 4:00. I'm pretty happy with my revisions, and hope my advisors are on the same page. Ha, get it? Page. Thesis. Yeah.
tfa letters are mailed in two days. i wish my dad would STOP reminding me. =). i wish i could have dreams involving letters containing the words "Miami" and "Congratulations" but instead i sleep soundly with visions of missing planes, getting turned into a robot, and being chased underwater by sharks. no, Ms. Nurse Practitioner, i'm clearly not stressed; whatever on earth could be wrong with me?
enough with the self-indulgent posting, it's about time i get done with this draft!
tfa letters are mailed in two days. i wish my dad would STOP reminding me. =). i wish i could have dreams involving letters containing the words "Miami" and "Congratulations" but instead i sleep soundly with visions of missing planes, getting turned into a robot, and being chased underwater by sharks. no, Ms. Nurse Practitioner, i'm clearly not stressed; whatever on earth could be wrong with me?
enough with the self-indulgent posting, it's about time i get done with this draft!
Friday, April 02, 2004
Grrrrr.
And today started out so well? 6 people showed up for my class at the 'mawr ordinarily composed of 30. 3 of those present were Haverford seniors, thoroughly debunking our professor's rationalization that everyone was "stressed" about "theses." My ass. I'm writing two, and I still managed to drag my ass out of bed for a screening of M. I don't understand how girls at that school seem to think that they don't have to do silly things like "go to class" and stuff. Hi, sense of entitlement?
Then, I come home drenched because I left the damn house without an umbrella or other appropriate rain-deterring clothing. Stupid. Then, raining on my metaphorical parade (as if the less than figurative rain weren't enough), it seems as though some people got their panties in a twist over my critical response to one dhenry's posting. There was a point when someone quoted me quoting dave, prefaced with "I think Thea is misinterpreting what was said here..." I'd like to have a moment for the situational irony in my life generated by Brooks Ambrose. Thank you, Brooks, for letting me know that I misinterpreted my boyfriend's statment. He (said bf) admitted that he was less than clear, and that my qualms might have been applicable. He also cleared up that he didn't mean exactly what he said, so that just puts a delicious context on what happens next.
Things escalate, as they normally do on those blasted boards, and some freshman takes it upon himself to prove me wrong as a sort of crusade, antagonizing me with borderline insults. [Scoff]. Whatever. I ranted for a long time to EB both online and on the phone, which while cathartic, really does nothing to curb the stupidity on display on the Go boards. Oops, thanks to that distraction it's now time to head up campus for the dreaded thesis meeting.
Graciela, while trying to not crush my ego completely, told me in no uncertain terms that if I really want to have an effective thesis, I have to re-write about a third of it. Shit. TWO WEEKS, people, TWO WEEKS. That's not even taking into account the rough for CompLit that's due on Tuesday. Feeling just about as morose as the weather, I trudged North to the haven of warmth underneath a down comforter in Lunt, slept for a few hours and tried to forget about that thesis for a while. While effective, my nap deadened my right arm, 'cause I crashed for 2 hours straight without budging. Why am I so damn tired?
Words of confidence from dhenry, a quick workout, and a *fantastic* dinner of willow chicken dried out my dank spirits a tad. Finding out that Microsoft Word doesn't function on my computer quickly dampened them again. [Rolls eyes in exasperation]. Whatever, thank GOD I had the laptop here so that I could get some serious work done tonight, or else I just might have gone insane. I'm so ready for this day to be over in the next 10 minutes that it's not even funny. Let's hope this is not a portent of things to come this weekend; I can't deal with that right now.
Then, I come home drenched because I left the damn house without an umbrella or other appropriate rain-deterring clothing. Stupid. Then, raining on my metaphorical parade (as if the less than figurative rain weren't enough), it seems as though some people got their panties in a twist over my critical response to one dhenry's posting. There was a point when someone quoted me quoting dave, prefaced with "I think Thea is misinterpreting what was said here..." I'd like to have a moment for the situational irony in my life generated by Brooks Ambrose. Thank you, Brooks, for letting me know that I misinterpreted my boyfriend's statment. He (said bf) admitted that he was less than clear, and that my qualms might have been applicable. He also cleared up that he didn't mean exactly what he said, so that just puts a delicious context on what happens next.
Things escalate, as they normally do on those blasted boards, and some freshman takes it upon himself to prove me wrong as a sort of crusade, antagonizing me with borderline insults. [Scoff]. Whatever. I ranted for a long time to EB both online and on the phone, which while cathartic, really does nothing to curb the stupidity on display on the Go boards. Oops, thanks to that distraction it's now time to head up campus for the dreaded thesis meeting.
Graciela, while trying to not crush my ego completely, told me in no uncertain terms that if I really want to have an effective thesis, I have to re-write about a third of it. Shit. TWO WEEKS, people, TWO WEEKS. That's not even taking into account the rough for CompLit that's due on Tuesday. Feeling just about as morose as the weather, I trudged North to the haven of warmth underneath a down comforter in Lunt, slept for a few hours and tried to forget about that thesis for a while. While effective, my nap deadened my right arm, 'cause I crashed for 2 hours straight without budging. Why am I so damn tired?
Words of confidence from dhenry, a quick workout, and a *fantastic* dinner of willow chicken dried out my dank spirits a tad. Finding out that Microsoft Word doesn't function on my computer quickly dampened them again. [Rolls eyes in exasperation]. Whatever, thank GOD I had the laptop here so that I could get some serious work done tonight, or else I just might have gone insane. I'm so ready for this day to be over in the next 10 minutes that it's not even funny. Let's hope this is not a portent of things to come this weekend; I can't deal with that right now.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Pink Rose To The Rescue
Well, the "Thesis Hives" are clearing up at last, now that the rough draft is in; no, seriously, I broke out in hives I was so stressed this weekend. But it got done, as I knew it would, and now on to CompLit. It's a little daunting that it's due so soon, but whatever, I've got to get on with it. The end of school is frighteningly close, but I'm not in the mood to think about it right now.
Today, I took some completely frivolous time for myself, went to the gym to clear out my head and take a break from reading, and then went off to glassblowing as soon as class was over. That went pretty badly, which was so completely frustrating because up until about halfway through it was perfect. I mean, perfect. Oh well, shit happens.
I was in a pretty shitty mood after that, and decided that a slice of barbecue chicken from SoHo was in order. Back to the studio to clean up my stuff, and then, feeling super-indulgent, further south to Pink Rose. White chocolate raspberry cheesecake called to me longingly from the display case, so I gave in. As the girl at the counter rang me up, guessing correctly from my sweatshirt and jeans that I wasn't there to loiter, she asked me if I went to Haverford. It's always surprising when people identify with the Reds. She asked me if I liked it, and it took me a second to respond. I believe my answer was something like "eh, yeah...it's good to get out into the city sometimes." My wry grin was matched with an equally knowing smile, and that made my night. She wished me luck, and I gave her a tip, spreading happiness everywhere. Sort of.
If I were feeling a little more altruistic and hadn't just spent $80 on glass color, I would have picked up a slice for my slightly in need of cheesecake roommate and one more for the boy, in celebration of 5 months (scary! I know, time flies), but alas my credit card is feeling the weight of my aesthetic addiction. I'm a horrible selfish person, I know...but damn that cheesecake was good.
So now I'm back, I'm tired, and I've got to read some more Woolf (that, surprisingly, I am enjoying). That's the scoop on me.
Today, I took some completely frivolous time for myself, went to the gym to clear out my head and take a break from reading, and then went off to glassblowing as soon as class was over. That went pretty badly, which was so completely frustrating because up until about halfway through it was perfect. I mean, perfect. Oh well, shit happens.
I was in a pretty shitty mood after that, and decided that a slice of barbecue chicken from SoHo was in order. Back to the studio to clean up my stuff, and then, feeling super-indulgent, further south to Pink Rose. White chocolate raspberry cheesecake called to me longingly from the display case, so I gave in. As the girl at the counter rang me up, guessing correctly from my sweatshirt and jeans that I wasn't there to loiter, she asked me if I went to Haverford. It's always surprising when people identify with the Reds. She asked me if I liked it, and it took me a second to respond. I believe my answer was something like "eh, yeah...it's good to get out into the city sometimes." My wry grin was matched with an equally knowing smile, and that made my night. She wished me luck, and I gave her a tip, spreading happiness everywhere. Sort of.
If I were feeling a little more altruistic and hadn't just spent $80 on glass color, I would have picked up a slice for my slightly in need of cheesecake roommate and one more for the boy, in celebration of 5 months (scary! I know, time flies), but alas my credit card is feeling the weight of my aesthetic addiction. I'm a horrible selfish person, I know...but damn that cheesecake was good.
So now I'm back, I'm tired, and I've got to read some more Woolf (that, surprisingly, I am enjoying). That's the scoop on me.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Schizophrenia
And I thought it was my roommate who was writing her thesis on mental disorders...I'd like to find the person who told me it would be a good idea to double major, and shoot them. I've been switching academic gears within the discipline of literary analysis so much in the past 5 days that I'm having trouble thinking straight. Today, in my CompLit prestentation, I replied to my professor (who is German, btw) in the affirmative "si", therefore satisfying either of the Spanish or Italian texts that I'm working with, but unfortunately not comprehensible in either of the languages that he speaks.
I'm splitting myself in so many directions that I just want to curl up into a ball and stay warm (not unlike I did last night, after a very frustrating 4 hours of Borges). This morning, I got up all energized and belligerent to work on the Spanish, was working well until my mindless mechanical break at the Athletic office [during which, not only did I sustain a 1/10 ratio of papercuts to envelopes stuffed and folded on a 300+ mailing, but was informed that the CHC recruiter guy called Wendy THIS MORNING, before I had remembered to email her to let her know that they wanted to talk to my soccer references. shit. I SWEAR, I'm not always this irresponsible], after which I had to switch gears to CompLit for an almost frustrating hour lunch with Sedley, formulate and present coherent thoughts for class, which energized me and made me belligerently defend my points, only to arrive at home having to finish my Spanish rough draft which is due today. Did I also mention that I wrote 17 pages this weekend for English?
Plus, in a fit of sublime irony, the mailing that was slicing through the delicate dry skin of my fingertips had to be folded along the line Please respond to me by Friday April 16th, conveniently the Spanish deadline.
Friday April 16th
[slice, stuff... ow! slice again]
Friday April 16th.
for 4 hours.
But I should quit my bitching, because I get to go blow glass tomorrow, and the world isn't *actually* coming to an end, although sometimes it may seem like that.
I'm splitting myself in so many directions that I just want to curl up into a ball and stay warm (not unlike I did last night, after a very frustrating 4 hours of Borges). This morning, I got up all energized and belligerent to work on the Spanish, was working well until my mindless mechanical break at the Athletic office [during which, not only did I sustain a 1/10 ratio of papercuts to envelopes stuffed and folded on a 300+ mailing, but was informed that the CHC recruiter guy called Wendy THIS MORNING, before I had remembered to email her to let her know that they wanted to talk to my soccer references. shit. I SWEAR, I'm not always this irresponsible], after which I had to switch gears to CompLit for an almost frustrating hour lunch with Sedley, formulate and present coherent thoughts for class, which energized me and made me belligerently defend my points, only to arrive at home having to finish my Spanish rough draft which is due today. Did I also mention that I wrote 17 pages this weekend for English?
Plus, in a fit of sublime irony, the mailing that was slicing through the delicate dry skin of my fingertips had to be folded along the line Please respond to me by Friday April 16th, conveniently the Spanish deadline.
Friday April 16th
[slice, stuff... ow! slice again]
Friday April 16th.
for 4 hours.
But I should quit my bitching, because I get to go blow glass tomorrow, and the world isn't *actually* coming to an end, although sometimes it may seem like that.
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