i am a writer, writer of fictions

two papers are written and turned in to their respective professors.  the third is written and currently resting in a state of mediocrity.  it will most likely stay that way, since i have officially reached the point where school seems completely irrelevant when compared to more savory summer activities, like watching felicity for two hours every day while eating just one more hershey kiss.  well, maybe one more.  one more and this is the last one i swear.

this last stubborn paper was one of those projects that sounded a lot more interesting in my proposal than it did half-way through the composition of the actual seminar paper.  i’m writing on sarah scott’s novel a description of millenium hall and the concept of the female utopia.  this is one of the first papers i’ve written when the theory i’m using (in this case ernst bloch) turned out to be more interesting than the novel.  bloch’s ideas about the utopian function are actually pretty interesting, once you get past the density (and sometimes complete incomprehensibility) of his prose.   sarah scott, however, is completely comprehensible and also relatively boring.  then again, i find a lot of eighteenth-century literature relatively boring.  thank god for the victorianists!  except for you, sir walter scott.  you, sir walter, i do not like.

fortunately, our professor gave us a two-day extension on this paper.  menacingly, it is now due friday the 13th.

but tomorrow i am obliged to go to “this year in nineteenth-century studies” on campus, a rice conference that i’m sure would be interesting at any other time of the year.  the coordinators of the conference knew it was a bad idea to hold a day-long conference the day before seminar papers were due but insisted on may 10 because it’s trollope’s birthday.  the fact that trollope is dead and will therefore be indifferent to our morning celebration of bagels and coffee in his honor does not seem to effect their logic.  we should at least do something fun and trollopian.  we could each dress up as our favorite trollope character, perhaps.  but then most of us would be dressed up as vicars.  and the polyester i associate with vicars would not be comfortable in the swamplike atmosphere of houston.

outisde of school life is… currently nonexistent.  i’m looking forward to visiting danny in killeen this weekend post-papers.  every time i’ve seen him since his return from iraq i’ve been at least half-stressed about something school-related, so it will be really nice to spend some time with him unaccompanied by hallucinations of, say, the bronte sisters or my feminist debates professors telling me that every woman — that’s every woman, now — is a lesbian.  at least according to adrienne rich.  i’m planning on spending a lot of time doing absolutely nothing of consequence with danny, a luxury we have not enjoyed for some time.  and when he has to go do something military-related, i plan on lying by the pool reading a trashy girlie magazine. 

current freckle count:  432
anticipated freckle count:  324535

but i suppose i should get off to bed, since i actually have to get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow morning to toast to the birth of trollope with a semi-stale danish.  in closing, i give you…

shirley by charlotte bronte
middlemarch by george eliot
the moonstone by wilkie collins
oroonoko by aphra behn
robinson crusoe by daniel defoe
the history of sexuality, vol. I by michel foucault
the adventures of eovaai by eliza haywood
vathek by william beckford
guy mannering by sir walter scott
isle of pines by henry neville
the female captive by elizabeth marsh
the global eighteenth century edited by felicity nussbaum
grammar of empire by janet sorenson
jonathan wild by henry fielding
the history of sir george ellison by sarah scott
a description of millenium hall by sarah scott
freud on women: a reader edited by elisabeth young-bruehl
global women: nannies, maids, and sex workers in the new economy edited by barbara ehrenreich and arlie russel hochschild
and a whole lot of feminist theory


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