sweet.  lord.

i have to get up to head to the airport in just over three hours.  it should be illegal for a flight to board before 9:00 a.m.

sleep is somehow out of the question.  yet, when i was attempting to read about foucault’s author-function, napping came quite naturally.  full-on drool napping.  i’m considering just staying up the whole time, but (a) i’ll feel guilty about not doing schoolwork, even though my brain is currently incapable of confronting emily bronte right now and (b) i’ll still have to stay up all day thanksgiving to do the family thing.

one of the other first-years has suggested that the students in the 19th century brit fiction seminar pull together a panel for a conference on the material book this july in edinburgh.  which would, no doubt, be very cool.  it also requires that i write an abstract of my seminar paper by monday.  is this possible?  we shall see.  at first i wasn’t feeling up to facing people with intellectual questions about my topic, but now i’m realizing that i know a hell of a lot about wuthering heights and pseudonyms.  i think i just might kick ass.  and if all else fails, i can spurt terms like “material instantiation of the text” and “symbolic capital.”  i’ve learned the lingo, if nothing else.  thanks, dr. patten!  interesting factoid on this topic:  some critics have argued that serial publication (or publishing a novel in several parts in a magazine or periodical) is suited to women.  the justification:  the cycle appeals to their, well, intimate knowledge of cycles.  iiiiinteresting.

i went christmas shopping at the galleria this morning.  either the rich folk at armani were holding a pre-thanksgiving feast for the poor souls who slave at radio shack or they were pumping in aromas of stuffing and bird-in-the-oven to put shoppers in the buying mood.  doesn’t really work.  gourmet aromatherapy doesn’t stretch my bank account to coach and luis vuitton standards any more than the usual bagel-dog smells.  and, in fact, the bagel-dogs look even more withered and chewy under their heat lamps when you’re thinking of pumpkin pie.  the food court’s sales surely suffered today.

and speaking of bird-in-the-oven:  the kmart commerical promoting their day-after-thanksgiving sale features a flock of turkeys, supposedly high-tailing it on their way to kmart.  now, i take issue with this on two levels.  first, all of these turkeys?  yeah, they’ll be dead by thursday.  and secondly, why are the turkeys going to kmart?  if the turkeys are going, do i want to?  kmart is already unsanitary.  adding turkey droppings into the mix will not help matters.

well, i suppose i should at least try to sleep.

bad habits i’ve picked up in grad school:
1. prolonged periods of not leaving my apartment.  we’re talking days here.
2.  slouching.  wtf?
3.  checking how many pages in a book before i begin to read it.  i used to hate people who did that.
4.  compulsively checking the MLA bibliography, because i’m convinced someone is going to steal my seminar paper topic
5.  nodding when i don’t understand things, even outside the classroom.  when i’m asking for directions… when i’m at work…  very bad.


2 thoughts on “

  1. I’m sitting at my supervisor’s desk inhaling a large tupperware of spaghetti. I thought you might enjoy that.
    Don’t cut the hair yo. I will do it for you and you can live vicariously through me. We must catch up this week. I need the play by play of your dinner with my parents.

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