It ain't over yet, dammit

I'm up unsually early today, probably because my sleeping habits have switched to end-of-semester mode. Take last weekend, for example, I woke up up at 2 AM and wrote -- get this -- one friggin paragraph, only then to catch an amazing film Six degrees of Separation with with Will Smith. Needless to say, I was pretty grumpy the following day, having acomplished nothing. In an effort to avoid speaking of the last two papers waiting to type itself out (at some point, the profs gave us an extension!), I am lining up all the films I want to see, like the new david lynch Inland Empire; Amodovar's Volver; Guest's For your Consideration; The brother's quay doing The Piano tuner of Earthquakes. what an amazing title.

as for books: i want to read The line of Beauty , haruki murakami, and the unberable lightnes of being. Ooh must get the new Chabon, too. I think my vacation is going to devoted to fiction. Absolutely no theory, maybe Agamben if it is short, but that's it.

okay, i have 2 hours before work. fun fun fun

current state minus the stack of papers

You have got to love Kettle Chips, that's for sure.

office hours

I woke this morning daydreaming about cancelling office hours today, since I don't get many customers-- one at most -- and this is the day before an exam. Whatever -- there was no miracle that would enable me to send a regretful mass email to the class. But so the wishful fantasy lasted until I received an email from a student asking for assistance. I show up half an hour early so as to do some prep work -- ugh, I was somewhat scattered, let me tell you -- and one student popped in and then two and finally ten students showed up in the graduate reading room (aka "my office"). I explained some concepts, but not a whole lot. I asked the group what they all thought or planned to say about certain passages and whatnot. Honestly they did most of the work, bouncing off ideas left and right; it was a nice collaborative effort, though I felt like at times I couldn't really provide enough guidance and thus felt a little inadequate; but that's okay, I guess, since I couldn't really give ready-made answers just so they can regurgitate them. As class came to a close, two students came up to submit their exams and thanked me. I smiled and nodded, of course. Happy. I only hope that some clarity came out of these maniacal crunch periods. I speculate about their lives, no doubt, particularly because most of the students are graduating this year. Remember many late studying for those dreadful in-class passage ID exams? or when you just wanted to graduate and break free? Ugh, okay so I'm grading this weekend -- the fun never stops.

schizo

Um, so I am utterly and completely insane to keep changing my paper topic two weeks before it is due, right? okay, maybe not completely different but still a major modification. ugh. It takes me so long to think things through. arg.

out of nowhere

Long absence, I know. So yesterday I was shopping for shoes at Nordstrom and this clerk asks, "Aren't you my TA?" Stunned, I said, "Oh, um, that's right." Gah... Gahh. I think I stood for minute totally dumbfounded and obligated to say, "so... how's it going? Are you graduating this year?" and the topic conversation immediately switches to grades. Seriously, the student wanted his 1 extra point to raise his C+ exam. So I suggest an appointment with the professor would help, as well as the rewrite of an assignment and so forth, etc. It was the oddest feeling to be talking about grades in a non-academic environment. And then I got the most alarming revelation of all -- the student lives two blocks away from me!!! So whatever, like I wasn't going to ask him to get my shoe size and watch me try on a bunch of stuff. That was just too much for me. Too much.

Moving along, I have three weeks of my dreaded classes -- okay, the derrida class isn't half as bad compared to two early modern classes. So I was suppose to be reading lots Colonial literature research-related stuff and by chance I picked up Agamben's State of Exception and it is unbelivably good. Sigh. I really want to finish it instead of all the crappy-must-read.

playing coy, that one.

Just a picture this evening -- Little B looks a little queer here.
Must read Spenser. I also need a primary text for Early Modern evening class. Boy.

a delinquent, don't you know?

So it is definitely harder to blog regularly this semester, but honestly all I think about 99.99% of the time is sleep (and food!), since I get about 6 hours on the days that i work. Like I should be in bed now if I actually want to get 7 hours. Sometimes I'm afraid to blog about academics so late in the evening -- racing thoughts = no sleep. So terse updates and upcoming things to do list and all things whiny:

• held my first "office hours" in the graduate reading room, but no one really came, which was easy and disappointing; of course then I bumped into two students who later asked for tips for preparing for the next exam, and then the emails that went something like " I got the fever and couldn't make it to class -- what was the assignment?" but "office hours" -- that kills me.
• This semester is awful in lots of ways. Two Early Modern classes and de Man. Okay, so for the next month the readings will all be Derrida. I mean, there are some fascinating questions coming out of my readings, but for the most part I am really bored and disconnected. None of this stuff really interest me.
• On the upside, I've worked out a quasi-independent study with a prof who is willing to meet with me to talk about research related books I read "on the side." do i even have time to read for that? More on this later.
• I want to check out Jennifer Egan since I am so out of the contemporary fiction loop.
• I added Zizek! in my netflix; listened to Radio Dept. (very good) and watch Shortbus. yes, it is graphic.
• want to just pet "Little B" instead of blogging.
• I need to read so much crap this week! But i'm also coveting shoes and make up? ugh. and a halloween costume?

i love thee

but why are you so expensive? david aubrey

I just ordered a used CD by Gliss. Gotta love raspy vocals.

cafe reading

Just came back from the coffee house two blocks away from my apt, which is great but it closes at 10 pm. Tonight's reading acquisitions were somewhat modest; definitely not as productive as I would like. O well. Sadly, I'm not a speed reader, but want to learn to read more strategically. Anyhow, read an exciting essay by Nietzsche called "On truth and lies [...]" and now Thomas More's Utopia, which is actually quite engaging thus far. So here's what I'm thinking: after dinner I often retire to my room and read in bed -- bad habit, I know -- but then food coma kicks in and by the time 10:30-11 pm rolls around I am exhausted want to sleep. So maybe the thing to do, at least for a week, is to just hit the cafe after dinner for at least a good solid 2 hours of reading (and with caffeine, too); then go home and read in bed.

What else? Reading de Man is unbelievably painful. I cannot believe I have a whole semester of de Man and Derrida. My only saving grace is that we will be reading Paul Celan, plus some political writings; otherwise, I have to sit still until de Man week and 1/2 is over. Talk about discipline and punish. fuck.

okay, so I believe that latte and cappuccino is beginning to kick in. back to reading -- or shower?

grading

Tonight I have my first real stack of quizzes to grade: Old English passage IDs. Remember those? ugh. So I've got Japanese take-out, plus choco-cranberry bread to help me get through the entire stack of grading. The plan is to finish early, say, 10 pm, which will then give me 2 hours to read for Monday's class, and then be in bed by midnight in order to rise at 6 am and get to work at 6:30. Must ignore the fact that my laundry is piling up. No time to do it this weekend, that's for sure.

more update on classes soon. need to stick to plan tonight! I'm thinking maybe i should just brew one cup of coffee, you know, for the dessert bread. Did i mention how much cheese and bread I am eating these days ever since I started working at the bakery? hm.

Friday crisis: I wish I was doing

...some form of genre studies: ex. a discourse on current lesbian erotica or queer pulp fiction; or better yet, Native American queer fiction, or edgy Asian American cinema; or "magic realism"; or detective fiction; or the body in cyberspace (ie. science fiction)

what the hell am I doing? thinking of about bodies and regulation. what is that? am I interested in its intersection with disabilities studies? like "defective" bodies? what the hell does that mean anyway? does it also cross with intersexed or transgender issues? what am i really focusing here?

I wish i could collapse in my bed.

Good times

Friend took me kitty-shopping for kitty wipes. Afterwards we made vodka tonics and ate cracker and cheese with apricots. Now listening to Bauhaus (yup, nostalgic afternoon) and getting ready to read three 20-paged secondary readings for monday's class. Attempting to get ahead on my readings as this weekend is shot to hell. Well, I get to see The Tempest with a lovely company of friends. Otherwise, I've got deadlines up the crack. Dunno where to start. Just keep moving, right? one small task at a time.

performance anxiety: TA-ing

It’s another beginning of sorts, I guess; only I think I’ve kicked it off to a bad start. Even when I think about attempting to sum up my absence from the blogosphere I always find it difficult to get back into the groove of writing once I’ve let the weeks pass by. Wasn’t blogging for 15 minutes a day supposed to help my writing addiction?

In other news, I had my first presentation on an Old English poem in front of 85 students. Of course, I was fretting all morning and tried not to get too caffeinated all at once, but still got a bellyache nonetheless. I got up to the podium, read the first 4-5 lines aloud, and went over some context about Anglo-Saxon warrior culture. I don’t know exactly what was running through my head as I read aloud, but I was ecstatic that my voice was actually loud enough; and at some point, I also thought, “eh, they probably don’t know a thing about Beowulf anyway.” So I projected my voice and even made eye contact a few times—thank goodness I actually typed out a little script of basically what I wanted to cover. Word from prof was that I didn’t look nervous at all. Sweet. Still, it was definitely a bizarre experience. Did I enjoy it? Not sure. Even as I try to recollect what it was like to be in a position of authority, I still feel really ambivalent about the whole thing. I discovered later that afternoon that the students were actually seniors, and are quite familiar read with most of the material on the syllabus. So much for trying to calm myself for next presentation. But I was pleased how it turned out, especially since I got performance anxiety the night before the presentation and imagined exiting the room in the middle of my mini-lecture, just like the way I had imagined walking out of my dreaded piano recital all those years ago. I’m still learning a lot from prof, of course. Just gotta try to be stoked about the reading material somehow. I can’t believe I’m around seniors.

welcome back spells

How does one get over the not knowing enough spell? Enter bad thought: what's the harm in staying an extra semester? No rush, right? More classes and more time to think about how one actually puts together a thesis package that will make schools go, hmm... now that was quasi-productive. Need another fill of coffee, I think. I hate using the weather as an excuse for my lethargic start, but some sun might help me perk up.

monday bullets of anxiety

• It-changed-my-life books -- I’m still looking. What I find disappointing is that I really did think I enjoyed what I read. Still enjoy, I mean. Sometime last semester, however, I now see that I was gradually drifting farther from what I enjoyed the most, which I can’t, at present, fully understand. Sure, I wrote seminar papers that were of interest to me, but finding works that I loved were so few. What, how, and why that changed suddenly occurred is a loss. On the one hand, I thought that I just wasn’t “excited” about the discussions in class, nothing that really knocked me down. On the other hand -- maybe on a positive note – is that maybe I’m just outgrowing old interests and developing new ones?
• In the midst of writing a paper last semester, I actually did hear my voice, my opinion and felt comfortable about laying it out in the open.
• In the course of reading and writing papers, I’ve noticed a lot of dated material, dated arguments I’ve used. Sure, at first I got an introduction to theoretical schools of thought and performed “readings,” but now feel so largely uninspired.
• I felt incredibly displaced today when I was in a room full of Early Modern/Renaissance students. That is to say sometimes I’m inclined to construct a “grad student template,” self-disciplined students who are extremely focused about their ideas and choices (I call them born grad students -- strike that, I mean students who have always known they wanted to be professors). This template that I compare myself to obviously questions my own academic identity (of lack thereof). So now I am unmistakenly loopy.
• Must pick primary text to work on!
  

Restless

Currently I feel terribly irritated, agitated, and anxious, which might mean a long night of tossing and turning. gah. The only activity I accomplished today was do my laundry -- haha, yeah, oh man. Actually I would have waited until the very last minute, but work entails white shirts; it's a drag, because I simply do not own enough white shirts (just four!), soI am forced to do laundry more often. what else? I am meeting the Pre-1800 Prof to discuss TA duties. That's probably why I feel like my head is swirling. Let us hope I get a copy of the syllabus ahead of time. So much for getting a head start on reading material for that class. If I have some reservations about my decision to TA for pree-1800, it is probably because I imagine it will sway me farther from the real reading, the work that I am supposed to be working on. It is something else to be TA-ing for a class that is related to my own readings. But I whine. Maybe I should refresh my head a little of what I do know about Old English so as to make a good impression and feel better about what the hell I'll be doing. So, okay, I've got 2 hours before midnight. Must turn off Pandora !!!!

"Little B"

I feel like her whenever I'm at my desk.

And in the morning...

I decide whether to spend 20 minutes of jogging and then grab a loaf of whole grain on the way back, or coffee and leasure read a while, or blogging and replying to emals. Grr. Or pet the house cat. sigh.. actually she seems to be carressing the corner of my laptop now.

"Step away from the baby," I often say.
"C'mon, give me some lovin.'" Purr...

I planned on seeing a performance-based exhibit this afternoon -- here's hoping I stick to that plan! Excited about this. sigh...

update 41 minutes later: maybe i should stay in and actually look at my paper? O well. no jogging this mornin, just yoga stretches will do under time constraint. ugh. Update at 2 pm: well, no use going to exhibit now; it's practically an all afternoon event that entails viewing video installations, plus extra stuff. O well. it was a spur of the moment plan I thought of last night as I was looking at my calendar. Another day. No trouble.

100th post

100 entries of random observations, speculations, rants, and bullets of anxieties. Weeeh. Decision. Decisions. I’ve been trying to get back into the groove of blogging more reflective thoughts about new changes and discoveries of my own this summer, but currently I feel like I am always wrestling between blogging to clear my head, which never ceases to calm my nerves before bedtime, or reading a novel before 1 am or 1:30 am. Moreover, I recently started working at a bakery, so I absolutely need to train myself to sleep earlier in order to get up at 5:30 am and shower, get dressed, eat a banana (if I am lucky), and get to work at 6:30. For me, it is somewhat hard to decide what to do, say, after work or school. I love to make meals, but during the semester devoting at least 2 hours every night to cook is too much, what, with preparations, cooking time, taking my sweet little time to eat my food, and then cleaning up. I have one more week left before classes resume, so I’ve pretty much given up on cramming more research related reading. This means I can just enjoy and finish reading Auster’s new novel over the weekend and then perhaps read a novella. The end of summer whining just got fired up. Whoo.

Decisions. It is so aggravating sometimes. I still have 30-40 min of reading time alloted for tonight. Perhaps I will even cheat and sleep at 2 am since no work tomorrow. okay!

Blasted, blasted blogger

Mother of f'n universe, I just lost my wrap up of blasted Sunday post. I clicked on save draft to proofread but no. All flippin' gone. well, from now on I'll have to type everything on WORD. blasted blasted thing.

It used to be...

... a real joy -- delirious and wicked fun -- reading fiction during the long summer break, even enjoyed spending most of my time staying home. Long live the wee hours of The Dead Father. what am I going to do now?

racing thoughts

Last night I made a vodka tonic while my roommate and I watched So You Think You Can Dance. Hit the sack around 11:30 pm, got up 8 am and by 8:50 am I was at work sipping coffee. 8 blissful hours. Now it is 2:43 am -- what the hell is wrong with me? I need to post a list of what I need to do before classes resume. let's hope i'm not punchy in the morning. Tough summer.

some fairy dust might help

Dear Writing Fairy,

I really needed a break this past week: I found myself defering my paper revision the minute some cash turned up in my account, which you know is a rare occasion. I needed some cheering. Some shopping, dining out more than once in one day, and watching double feature classic films with bi-coastal friend reminded me of what true happiness is really like. I don't want to feel guilty, or stay up too late to watch "Belly of an Architect," or go on some maniacal cleaning rampage, or freak out because i have only 3 weeks left before classes resume. I really do want to spend more time on my paper. Really. I do! Send some dust my way, won't you? I could really use it as I am behind my schedule.

Please?

-- in pieces

I've got a cat

Actually, Kitty belongs to my old college friend -- she is a big time zapper, but makes me forget my worries for just a little while. She's taken over some of my workspace, too, and sometimes rubs her cheek on the corner of my laptop. Cute. Wanted to watch "Cache" tonight but need to make up for loss reading/writing time today. Half the time I think I really am out of my mind. Glad Kitty is around -- probably more than I realize.

decluttering

4 -- or 5? -- weeks of left of lazing about the pad watching netflix and making vodka tonics. Getting agitated and confused and disappointed about a lot (including not so great Indian food up 2 blocks. hmm. no good Indian nearby).

• start reading text for TA-ship class (as soon as prof sends syllabus). holy crap (3x). biggest anxiety
• continue spending 2 hours on overdue paper that I was supposed to send out to ex prof weeks ago and is currently in bad shape -- or no shape.
• read a fun novel and really start looking for cultural materials for THESIS proposal. aaaah.
• go to library and look at THESIS manuscripts. Pooh.
• think about which classes will benefit me the most in regards to larger project: t-h-e-s-i-s.
• READ NOVELS, I tell you. You need a book to work on. C'mon, pick up a fun novel dagnabbit! suggestions?
• jog more often and clear the head.

I need a new mantra.

happy bullets:

• problem ex roommate is finally sending my security deposit
• reward? shoes? or wine glasses? or a haircut?
• Vh1 classics is playing the Pretenders "Brass in Pocket" as i blog this. :)

a tiny miracle

I haphazardly picked up Grosz’s Space , Time, and Perversion at the library today. La di da da la di da da . I was on the public transportation when I flipped through the introduction of her book and had a minor but awesome breakthrough in the paper I am attempting to refine. Un-flippin-believable. Shit, I thought, how did I forget to consider Foucault’s docile bodies? Anyway, it’s just a little piece in the paper that I need to add. So now i have to wake up early and work in a library or some coffee shop to piece things together.
Moments like these are great, especially since it is the summer. And boy, the summer is almost over!

warming up to the new place

It's true: I'm a terrible blogger. I've always -- okay, for as long as I can recall -- struggled with managing my time. Too much downtime this summer, that's for sure. My roommate and I continue to explore our new neighborhood -- or strollerhood, as we say. Yes, there are more strollers in the streets than dogs, or carts with groceries in 'em. In fact, next door from our apt is X-kids (that's right, not Gap Kids, though even that is within walking distance!), a store for every kind of baby gadget, toys, etc. It's like Target married Toy R us to form X-kids.

Not that it's a terrible change, of course, but I grew accustomed to the queer and dog friendly neighborhood for the last year or so. And now, now I live farther up the city that it truly feels like a whole other universe -- the right side of my street is quiet, residential, huge homes (with a lawn -- i'm not kidding; it's a trip), gourmet markets in "Rich Village" (which, uh, only has 2 -- TWO flippin' coffee shops: Starbucks and Peets!), and a public beach where you can see famous tourist attraction. Now, the left our our block is sort of known as a mini Asia World, as my friend called it, which means cheap produce stands, hardware and supply stores all within steps from our place! There are, thankfully, a few good places to eat: Turkish place with delicious salads, Peruvian (for ceviche -- score!), 3 bakeries (for fresh French bread, don't you know), a dozen Vietnamese, Thai, "Dim Sum to Go" -- what else, Burmese, Indonesian, Japanese, French Bistro and 3 Pizza joints (thank God). But the absence for us is Indian food and Mexican (can't live without burritos, you know?).

We have one huge used books and cds store, which is awesome, though I shop online for books. Three Irish pubs are just around the corner, which looks okay. So that's our new block. But no nearby Uni library. ugh. Lists are a comin'

today's horoscope -- okay, okay, I get it

Daily Overview for July 22, 2006
Provided by Astrology.com

Daily Extended Forecast

Quickie:Any darkness in your day will be illuminated by new thinking. Get out in the open.

Overview:At the end of your life, are you really going to wish you'd spent more time caring about what other people thought? Hopefully not! It's time to listen to your own desires and needs and start acting on them.

writing progress

Got a bit of work done today at the cafe with psych girl, which lifted my spirits b/c i've been feeling guilty about being behind on my paper. Nice to sit with a writing pal. I was thinking of putting together a summer writing group and post it on our listserve, but was kind of afraid to do so. Summer is half over! holy crap, holy crap, holy crap. If I make next Monday my fake deadline, I will probably get it back a week later b/c Former Prof is supremely busy. I've been delaying/avoiding sending it off because I think hightly of Former Prof and my paper is in a sad state, maybe even dated, too. I've been trying to modify my ideas (and edit edit edit) so that I can see how it is (or might be) part of a larger, important discussion in queer politics, but my head is so clouded.

what do you do when you've stared at a paper for so long? Lose perspective, that's me. But what does one do? take a break and reread and revise again? It is perpetually hard because my short breaks end up being like 1 week of "I don't want to look at this anymore. this is crap and i can't show it to Former prof at its crappy state. " I think Former Prof will really laugh or just be really, really disappointed. But I need feedback to get me excited to work on it again. Maybe just send it off at its current state? It might mean i've admitted weakness, though. Don't need to keep reminding Former Prof of my weaknesses.

this week is going to be hard because my roommate is moving in tomorrow and we are doing a whole cleaning, organizing and lining all the cabinet drawers with white covers. Maybe I can squirrel away for 2 hours a day? but even that is not nearly enough -- okay, whatever, it is something. At least I will have 2 hours to edit each day for one week?
I hate that summer is almost over.

No dinero -- the tagline of my summer -- wait, my life

(this was actually a post from two nights ago -- No internet at new apt yet)

I made myself cinnamon oatmeal two nights in a row -- not for dinner, I mean -- but as a kind comfort midnight snack as I think of my new place, my unproductive summer (thus far), and the overwhelming work ahead of me.

To my recollection, this has been the most of expensive summer I’ve had to date $2750 just for the move. I have paid my share of the July rent and deposit, my sublet room that I stayed in last week whilst looking for apartments, the storage for that week, and finally the calling the movers twice (once to haul my stuff in storage and then to redeliver to new place). Maybe I should be eating oatmeal for dinner?

I make of a note of the lack funds this summer because this is the beginning of what grad life is like for me. Not having financial comfort has such an effect on me, both mentally and emotionally. I’ve hated this move for various reasons: I am no longer within walking distance to my library, not even close to my new my home -- imagine the 10+ books I have to schlep around during finals? I've limited myself -- not my choice -- to one mode of transportation: two buses, which is a bit more unpredictable than the X- line. Buses tend to get crowded and the godawful stench makes the ride so depressing.

Last night I was having a wee bit of fun fantasizing about new dinnerware – e.g. do I want basic white plates or fun, pop art looking colored plates? So I visit online stores: Ikea, William Sonoma, Sur the Tableu, Jonathan Adler, Crate and Barrel, Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie. I think, well, I can get more basic white plates that will last me a lifetime. White plates -- classic, right? But my taste and mood might change, which means I should probably opt for fun dinnerware. As I eyed several plates of various designs and colors, I also looked at flatware, and then a set of knifes, teapots, and wooden salad bowls. I browsed at kitchen stuff for about an hour and then decided that this was not the time to be looking at flatware, so I began to look at lamps, which is a little more practical for a student on a budget. Who needs expensive dishware? I will always need a lamp -- make that several lamps.

So I decide that it’s time to hit the sack but first turn on the tube and try to watch some mindless tv to get me to sleep. And what do you know, it turned on to Oprah doing a segment on Debt diet! Couldn’t I just fantasize and dream a little longer? See, that was last night. Today I unpacked a bit and was cutting through the thick tape on my box, so la di da da I cut cut cut and whoops… I cut a whole through my favorite olive colored bed sheet! Drats. Now what? Can’t sleep with that hole, so now I’ll have to look for a new set. Maybe.

Bedtime: I’ll edit and fix typos later. This is why I should not blog after midnight: laziness overcomes me. Must blog about the pros and cons of the new apt.

Magnetic Fields - With Whom To Dance

gender bender fun

It's a cruel, cruel summer

Sometimes a long absence from the blogosphere can make things harder for me to get back into the blogging ritual. Do I start from the day I called the MOVERS for the first time in my life? And how I was insanely anxious about the possibility of crooked movers and losing all belongings -- every single thing that has some story behind it? Strange, no doubt, when I think of my life stored in boxes.

One of the movers made a joke about signing my life away – how could he?!! I tried to imagine what a new life – or hell – would be like if I had to start all over with nothing but one backpack that contains a laptop and two books (one borrowed from the library), plus a Puma bag with 2 pairs of jeans,8 t-shirts and 3 pairs of shoes. I had nightmares all week, of course! I mean, I am so ridiculously anxious about everything. How could this be me? Who gave me the worry-wart gene dagnabbit! When did I start worrying about so much crap? Crap, let me tell you. I mean Holy Crap, it’s July already!!

Soon to post: lots of bullets about the week in review. I’m so sleepy that I can’t even write about the hell of apt search this week; but I am happy to report that I have a new place. .

ew

This is a bit freaky, b/c this is how I slept last night. Actually, most nights I sleep on my side. So apparently I rely heavily on my partner, eh? Let me think about this more.

Find your own pose!

This Isn't That Summer

The summer of 2002 is possibly *the* summer, I realize, that I keep returning to, especially when I can't recall a time when I was more optimistic. It was the summer after graduation -- I was jobless and thus worried. I had moved back at my folks, but had nonetheless paid three months worth of rent for a room in an apartment that I didn't occupy. I had spent six months of simple leisure reading, mostly in bed; it was lovely, really. It was that summer when I discovered John Cheever. The first line of "The Swimmer" has got to be one of my favorites: "It was one of those mid-summer Sundays when everyone sits around saying, 'I drank too much last night'" (603).

But this isn't that kind of summer -- and probably not for a long, long time. So the only real goal I have this summer is the re-reading and revising of an old paper (temping aside). I need to massage my paper in to a solid 20 (25?) paged paper. At the moment it is at 15 pages, but it's so not in good shape, needs LOTS of editing and footnotes. I need to modify the old argument and restructure the entire blasted thing. So while this isn't the summer of reading, I certainly hope it will turn out to be the summer of writing. Plus, former-prof will be reading it so I have some motivation to get this going. Gotta love profs who offer services during the summer, that's for sure. So that's the current plan.

Otherwise, movers come this friday to put my stuff in storage while I stay at a sublet pad. Then on Saturday old college friend arrives and the real apt search begins. We have one amazing prospect that I am really excited about, so let's hope we get it!

the long way

Sometimes I’m tempted to rename this blog to “infinitely indebt” or “Ode to Inadequacies,” which finally is what this self-indulgent space has been – nothing new there. The summer has always been a time of reflection for me, naturally since I have more downtime than in the winter break. I have more time to think about personal projects, books to read, goals—the endless list of summer aspirations. But this time is also a kind of summer in limbo or summer in media res. Certainly, I am always happy to make lists, but there is also the threat of the lackey part of me – the self that likes the idea of lists but somehow falls short of achieving the goals. Of course, sometimes I have work-in-progress goals that get lost in time, lots of muddled thinking, which is to say that it gets harder to see whether I am actually making progress, what, with the baby steps I take!

And it is funny to think that sometimes I really do have moments of lucidity, like when I think I have a clear expectation of things I want to do and hope to do. When I say “think,” as in the previous sentence, sometimes I fear that what I really mean to say is that I want the illusion of certainty. I want to think that I am certain and confident about the choices I am making (and have made in the past), but it’s hard for me to say. I have infinite bouts of doubt and thus the illusion of certainty that mobilizes me to try to move forward, I think. In other words, if I set goal X and think that I’ve managed well enough or have the illusion that I’m close enough to the finish line, then I can actually make myself move in the direction of goal Y and move on instead of fretting about goal X so much. But because I’m conscious of the role of illusions, I keep having recurring crises about certainties, which in turn produce abnormally high levels of anxiety.

I can’t believe I just wrote all this crap about illusion of things. Holy bejezus -- rereading paragraph 2 I realize that this is a post a about perfectionism. But I am not a perfectionist. Okay, I could have saved some bloggy time, but in the spirit of indulgence, it seems I took a detour. The long way to the root of the crisis. I was actually going to start talking about some of my goals (ie. Not just in the vague form of letters!). But I got all sidetracked and lost. Even worse is that I am sober and blogging

Whatever, I’m tired. Tomorrow I need to post about assertiveness -- the lack thereof,

Hwaet!

If memory serves right, "hwaet" is the first word that appears in line one of Beowulf, which means "pay attention." I wonder if I can say it when/if the students get rowdy? whipping out the Old English -- that's the other project for the summer. I've accepted the TA-ship, and I'm feeling strangely excited about the texts we'll be covering, plus working with students. If i don't have to think about public speaking, a podium and microphone, I might just manage -- for the summer, at least. Though maybe it is only my wishful thinking. It's funny -- I deliberately left all my English lit books behind me, thinking I will never have to visit any of it again. Gah! Return of the past?

Otherwise, I read an interesting essay entitled "The Construction of Heterosexuality" by law professor/legal scholar Janet Halley, and it was interesting to read law academics discuss how litigators should be critical about legal definitions that rest on essentialist claims. It was interesting to think about identity politics in the eyes of the law, anyway.

to be a TA or not -- bullets of anxiety

Why I should be a TA for pre-1800 prof:

• I need to push myself to do this -- don't want to regret now that I have a chance.
• I can get a better idea of what it is like to teach professionally -- esp. with 100-ish students.
• It's a pre-req class -- the students will probably be first and second year students; some might not even know what to major in yet -- I can do this?
• the texts will be traditional works -- beowulf, chaucer, Milton-- which i've read at some point in my college career; and while I've not read the Fairy Queen, Spencer, and other sonnets, well, I have the SUMMER to fill the gaps in education.
• If I work closely with the prof, ask how to approach certain texts and get advice and so forth, it may not be so bad; it's not like it is MY class. the students can come to me when they are too afraid to approach the prof. I just have to be REALLY prepared.
• Re-reading the texts might help me with the Subject exam.

Why I should not TA:

• This isn't my area of interest(!!!) -- what if something in me is so stubbon that even with "fresh" eyes I don't "get" the material? What if I don't get ideas?
• I'm not experienced enough for this, surely there are better candidates with background in this area.
• What if the students ask me all kinds of trivia questions that I have no way of answering on the spot? What if the students don't get what i am asking them to do?
• I have serious anxiety speaking in front of any group -- large or small. I get flustered and can even get so self-conscious that I start tripping on my own words.
• what if i have hard time leading the discussions? i'm such an introvert.
• I'm not smart enough and certainly not funny to humor the students. I don't even think I like teaching. i really don't.
• I'm so scattered. i wouldn't want pre-1800 prof to think that I was no help at all. I've not even met the prof and what if we do NOT mix? What if she expects auto-pilot TA? I need more guidance!!!

continued later...

maybe it's all downhill

Two nightmares in one night: I had a flash forward to next summer and was fretting about actually paying rent on my own -- no, I'm not kidding -- but this anxiety was the catalyst that changed my priorities and course of direction; it meant the end of school. I've tried to reason it all out, and what I have come up with is that something inside me is waiting to move on. I am reluctant to say this but I think my recurring dreams are telling me to admit the possibility that I want to move on and do something else. Even worse is the evil swirling in my head thinks that moving on also means never looking back at the academic-in-training part of me. Obviously I don't want to carry around some deep-seated bitterness about school. No -- I don't think I will, but still. Ugh.

2nd dream: John Malcovich kept biting his co-stars (until they bled, really, such violent dreams.) WTF? okay, open house to see.

update: no luck on apt today. Same story -- no cats and must have all applicants present! I might have to stay at a hotel with my roommate for a couple of days at the beginning of next month.

uneasy

At first, I wanted to say how I couldn't recall a time when I've been more anxious than now, as though the present moment is somehow altogether foreign that I haven't yet experienced; but upon sad reflection, how can I forget all those times I wanted to hide under a rock -- once, I wanted to stop writing in my journal (pure laziness in the wee hours) and thought it easier if I just recorded my thoughts in a small tape recorder, like Agent Cooper of Twin Peaks; it didn't last very long, in part because I kept wanting to stop, play, and re-record. I have lost that tape surely, but can recall lying awake under the covers with my tape recorder. So actually I meant to moan about how it gets harder to sort through things. And now would you believe that a Roy Orbison (sp?) concert is playing on TV?

Out of left field, a prof emailed me yesterday and asked if I might be interested in TA-ing for her class. Her area of teaching and research, however, is pre-1800 literature and thus I feel I am not the most ideal candidate for this particular class, not to mention that this pre-req undergrad class is LARGE class. Still, I am trying to convince myself, despite the disparate interests, that this chance would a be a good experience for me in seeing whether I can imagine myself teaching one day, if ever. I haven't commited yet, but oh, the thought sounds so overwhelming already. I've kicked off summer to weeks of moping, so is it possible to spend a summer filling some gaps in Old English, Middle English and 16th and 17th Lit? I could be working on my own project, though. Ugh. Would I just stray from what I should be doing? Tonight I picked up Butler's Undoing Gender and got through the introduction, which I enjoyed. More about how Pre-1800 prof got a hold of me out of the pool of students. Right now Blogger isn't allowing me to create paragraphs. (update: it works now!)

sick day

Having some kind of a daily routine -- reading at a café, preparing for class or heading to work-- is so much easier, if only to give me an illusion that I’m accomplishing things, working towards something. The downtime is killing me: I can’t seem to focus on anything for too long. I begin sorting papers, shredding bills, and putting a few things in boxes, but then I stop and spend the next 5 hours looking at apt listings and calling to make appointments. I can’t say I’m excited about any of these tasks; in fact, today I cancelled an appointment just because I was feeling out of sorts. I spent most of the day in bed, frequently looking at the time as though it mattered. I guess I’ve decided to make use of “sick days.”

I know that I feel unmotivated because I dread the labor of moving and thinking of financial woes of summer. Should I live in downtown? Certainly it is the center of all the shops, restaurants, but it is too busy and not an actual neighborhood. And then there are flats that are affordable but are either far from public transportation or kind of seedy and thus not a safe place to be walking about after night class. Then there are apartments near the beach, which is great if it were generally sunny here, but finally it is still far from center of the city, where I spend majority of my time. So I’ve just been wrestling with all of these choices. I’m also making this decision for my new roommate, who is an old college friend of mine. She has never been to the city and has no sense of the different neighborhoods and scenes. She has a cat and is highly allergic to carpet. It might take me a while to find a place we both like.

It’s no wonder I’ve been thinking of visiting my parents and friends. I want to get away from here for a while -- life here is a bit slow. I could remember a more idyllic summer, a time when all I wanted to do was devour a list of books. Now I’m not even numb enough to start reading again, let alone get out of bed.

Magnetic Fields - Born On A Train

sunday morning fun

random list of interest

Visual Culture -->vision (televisual? mediation and postmodernism)
voyeurism + surveillance = regulatory practices, normalization, and the law -- policing of bodies and sexuality, zoning laws, upholding heteronormativity. Althusser, Silverman, Foucault, Butler, Warner, berlant.
panopticon and abnormality, otherness, mimicry.

Homosocial bonds: triangulation, sedgwick, Fiedler (must read "Comeback to the Raft" sometime this break) -- email prof for suggestions? what about lacan? and Irigaray? look up later. For now maybe look into more law stuff and performance studies.

what is all this for anyway? just keeping track of folks and ideas to think about for larger project.

one piece of good news as my recents posts have taken the road to negativity, I wound up getting an A in short story class. Still waiting for results from the other classes.
I watched Touch of Evil last night, which was incredibly awesome.

night and the city

I had a nightmare last night -- the details are decidedly muddled, but I recall being harassed or attacked in some way. I know, for instance, I have a fear of walking home late at night, which, i hate to admit, is largely enforced by the news I watch. Why is it that I am prone think of the worst case scenarios? Sometimes I am walking and then decide to run before the light turns red, but in a flash i am on the ground. Othertimes I am walking through my usual route and a car pulls up and there is nothing I can do. I don't fight it. In dreams I try to resist, usually in a form of a sharp scream, an alarm, or a frantic dial of authorities, but to no avail. No last words.

I discovered Hollaback NY, which made feel slightly better. On tuesday I was walking out of a bar in downtown -- it was trivia night with my cohort -- and a heavy set man made some comment and gave me a leary eye that can only make one throw up a fist. But I didn't and kept walking as fast as I could.

no park, no bbq

After emailing and leaving messeage for potential apts, i've decided to crawl back in bed and vegetate for the remainder of the day. I've had an awfully dreary weekend, what, with trying to figure out whether I can afford higher rent (and ridiculous deposit) for a place that has wall to wall hardwood floor, lots of windows, built-in shelves (!), double french doors, high ceilings. it is obviously lovely and close to Amazing Park, which is great because I think I can pick up running again.

Out of left field, I woke up this morning thinking about the the last day of class with my cultural crit class. Our prof was dispensing advice about other routes we can explore with an MA, which seemed like a particularly good move given that many students in our program have no intentions of entering a doctoral program. It was refreshing to hear genuine optimism after crappy, crappy end-of-semester writing blues. I mean, I think it's useful to imagine myself and what my life might be like out of academia, if only to maintain sanity and not think as though I've let myself down. As I reread the previous sentence I feel sort of silly because I'm acutely aware that I've entered the program without long term goals, but with a sense that I was out here just happy to be doing what I love. Is that even enough though? Of course, maybe I just need a push. aaaargh.

blech

I haven't been quite in the shape to start reading novels -- not yet anyway. Strangely I don't know what to do with myself now that school is out. I browsed around stores and Borders to read up on Boston and New York sight-seeing. Lately I've been imagining myself in Boston

I've been thus far unsuccessful in finding apartments in my desired location, not to mention that most of the rooms are $750+. So that's what i've been doing all day, searching for rooms and jobs. And then tonight, as if I couldn't think of anything more optimistic to do, I was reading my prof's published essays and peaking through dissertation abstracts of former profs. Saturday night fun, eh? I've written such rubbish papers in comparison, essays that will probably not wind up in my longer project. Ugh. I can tell it's the beginning of a truly great summer. I know it.

I am soooo done!!

I got at least 4-5 hours of sleep, but finally I submitted my last paper of the semester! Sigh. really. This semester seemed a tad long this time. So I managed to tidy up a bit--made the bed, washed dishes, returned really late DVD. ugh. So now I'm celebrating with my second round of margaritas, listening to This Mortal Coil doing "The Last Ray" and thinking of taking a long lavender scented bath before bed. Recently I have been thinking of how awesome it would be to have a waterproof laptop -- imagine that?

In other news: I picked up a Visual Culture Reader, which has a couple of Butler essays and one Foucault. I'm excited, but will probably drop dead for a while. One goal I had in mind was to extend one of my essays that explored surveillance and policing bodies -- new interest for me! Anyway, I want to try to look at more criticism and see what's out there.
Otherwise, i need to find a new APT by the end of the month! ugh. labor.

truly out of it

I can't say how unfocused I have been this weekend -- it makes me sick -- but the paper I am working on was technically my low-stress paper. I thought I had things under control, had a fair idea of where I was going, even my main argument is essentially the same. But for some inexplicable reason I cannot seem to get myself to finish this damned paper. I'm trying to split my remaining tasks into three WORD documents: handouts, synthesis paper, and long paper, but in between juggling documents I am ready to weep, and there's always a looming fear that at some point I won't pull things together.

Also, I've always been plagued by the fact that I was never the type of person who planned things out, and I find it really bothersome in lots of ways, especially when I can't respond to questions that practically beg definitive answers. "What's the plan for the summer?" I don't know, nothing definite except visiting parents at some point, looking for a new apt, maybe working as well -- or not.

"What about after MA?" um, well, it's really hard to say when I am finding that many other issues are starting to outweigh the desire to even continue. On the other hand, I'm applying anyway and that's that. I really hate how these insecurities invade my thoughts when I need to focus on writing now, pronto. What the hell?

this may be a 2 am-ish night. I know I can do this, just three more friggin' days of the semester. let it be over. be over be over be over. goddamn be over.

aargh

Fiesta music was playing at my regular cafe this afternoon, and one hour later there's still carnival in my head. Why won't it stop... please, please. pretty please? I need to write a bit without things spinning out of control!

one week from today...

I will be done with the semester. I'm feeling more or less like I've checked out, and now just dragging my feet to class. I lead a discussion today (the first of 3 discussion days), and my own impression was that it was kind of awful. Last nightI imagined how it might play out-- how each question would logically connect or build on our responses. I forget that i'm not actually lecturing or presenting but opening up questions. And given that the discussion was bounching in several directions, I didn't feel like I had much control. I wanted to listen to the responses and try to synthesize what we were all attempting to say but can't articulate. So I sat in class doubting whether my questions were even relevant. How uncomfortable is that? We discussed a 1950s film that dealt with the white actors painting themselves dark to play African American roles, and the one thing I noticed was that I was censoring myself because I think I was trying to be PC.

I went to office hour after class to get more feedback since I actually have two more discussions
-- damn! I asked my prof how to go about generating relevant questions and was fairly honest that I just wasnt certain if I'm even probing in the right places. And then he said what I guess I had always known in the back of my mind but ignored. In his ironic, deadpan kind of tone, he said that if folks are silent, then share more of my opinions with the class. I don't remember if I laughed right when he said it, but i know I smiled in accordance just at the pure transparency of the situation. I replied that i wanted to listen to what other folks had to say first, but I guess I never got around to really putting myself out there enough. I guess that means I was a "moderator" ? Apparently i had interesting questions in my handout, and that he doesn't expect me to be an expert on X, which was nice to hear, you know.

All I could think of was how I must've looked anxious infront of my professor. In fact, a few days ago I just told prof how i was "scattered" because there is a lot to cover with four films -- which clip should I show?, etc. Sometimes I wonder if I should be so candid about my progress. On the one hand, I feel like I shouldn't even have to pretend like I'm in control of things, b/c they've been through all this hell before. Nothing new, and besides I want my profs to be my friend/mentor. On the other hand, how would they look at me, judge me if my nerves are totally tattered whenever I see them? Of course I don't bombard my profs with personal issues, but still I feel like there's a part of me that needs to give them the illusion that I am much more confident that I really am. o well. One learns, I guess. I have 2 more chances

On the paper front: paper 1 done; paper 2 due tomorrow; paper 3 due one week from today.

Almost free. soooo ooo sleepy.

daydreamin'

I dream I am moving again, not to a new city but to another small neighborhood in another pocket of current city. I walk down to my neighborhood side cafe, maybe downstairs from where I live, or maybe two blocks down -- or better, hike up one hill and sit in the sun. With my orange juice and bagel with cream cheese occupying both hands -- I try to cut down caffeine intake on weekends, and apparently it is Sunday-- I stare at the cars that pass by fighting for parking spaces. I chuckle at having been lucky to just walk down the street. My friend greets me, looking as though she had just rolled out of bed--and she did, to my recollection. I'm no longer scrambling to get things in things in order. I am calm. So there it ends -- finally I am mellow. maybe I am looking forward to summer.

I am also listening to the Flock of Seaguls doing *Wishing* : "I wouldn't spend my life just wishing... " Ha. Now, if I can just get myself to finish reading before class starts -- more days in the fourth floor of our stinkin' library.

netflix

How do I say this -- I just got Netflix. I actually need to watch Orsen Welles' adaptation of Othello for class. But seriously -- Oh. my God. Did my life just get easier?

My head is spinning -- not because i got up early and spent noon-5pm in the graduate reading room of our library -- but because I seem to have forgotten all the directors I love. I've added a few Godard films that were so hard to find -- Weekend, which is supposed to be excellent. I'm also starting to add 40s films -- my personal favorite Cary Grant film is Bringing up Baby. I also added early Todd Haynes, like Poison...ooh.. maybe add the other Hal hartley films I haven't seen! Anyway, I'm mostly done with my Pomo paper (1 week early), but still have to keep plugging away at 2 more papers and prep work for discussion. My name , as luck would have it, was drawn from a bag and now I am to lead the class discussion for the last three days of class! Time for bath? sigh. I could collapse.

but the summer? with netflix? and Ben and Jerry's ?

my writing pace

"I turn sentences around. That's my life. I write a sentence and then I turn it around. Then I look at it and I turn it around again. Then I have lunch. Then I come back in and write another sentence. Then I have tea and turn the new sentence around. Then I read the two sentences over and turn them both around. Then I lie down on my sofa and think. Then I get up and throw them out and start from the beginning" (Phillip Roth's The Ghost Writer).

I came across this quote while searching for more criticism and boy, Roth's writing habit resonates with me sometimes. How many times have I started from the beginning? ack.

okay, so i did take that nap after all -- 2 hours, too! -- and now I will add more quotes and hit the sack by 2 am. I must attempt to get up, say, 8 am and do more reading. My goal before bedtime is one more page of notes. okay!

deadbeat

So beat, sooo beat. Why don't I crawl under my sheet? Five long hours spent at cafe, only to write so little today. Or how about a quick cat nap, but don't you know I'll feel like crap, in the middle of the night, when i can no longer fight without my sight. So beat sooo beat. I may just fall asleep.

deadpan thoughts at 1:20 am

Racing against time. Ready to hit the sack. Early by my standards -- yes. YES. Friends from London crashed at my place tonight. The snoring works like a charm -- inspired me to write a bit on dreaded Carver paper. A miraculous piece of news it is: writing, which, for me, comes in spurts of 2 hours, always in the dead of night, until the gas runs out and screen-staring begins.

I was unmotivated to write this paper that in a moment of panic -- last night at this hour, out of sheer desperation, surely -- I emailed a couple of professors (from another class) , and kindly asked for additional sources that might be promising. Both responded this morning, with names of critics. Such glee, on my end. I make an appointment with Psych prof and imagine conversing about Kaja Silverman and Godard. He -- talking endlesly, excitedly. Me -- asking, "will you be my friend" -- or just be on my commitee?

Once, I told Psych prof that I wanted to title a paper "Hit me Baby, one more time: . . ." for the Angela Carter paper. Ha ha. silly, silly student, he must've thought.

Tonight I was tempted to title the Carver paper on voyeurism: "Shhh. All is quiet: . . . in Will You Please Be Quiet, Please " (you know, by Bjork?). Ugh. Gee whiz. Titles -- takes up lots of brain energy . "Rear Window" -- now there's a voyueristic film.

karplunk.

exuberance

I've been so terribly happy that I just wanted to take a moment to record this. I know I have a lot on my plate for the next few weeks and am probably in denial of the little time I have left until the semester is over, but what do you do when you are overwhelmed with utter joy? I can't seem to contain it, that's for sure. My roommates have been in bed hours ago. The night is still. And what can I do but grin and read until my eyes shut -- or just finish my cran/orange vodka mix and read.

In other news, my prof wound up liking the Sex and the City idea #2 for my paper, so the Angela Carter project will have to wait for another opportunity. It's a shame in other ways, if only b/c i've already done some preliminary research, ordered books, and have even gotten excited over the 1812 edition of Grimm's Snow White (which did not have a stepmother but an envious mother!). So I was quite psyched over the little discoveries I've made thus far, but now am even more thrilled, I gather, that I can look at Sex and the City as a cultural phenomenon. I confess I'm really not familiar with the show as i have never had cable growing up in my household; in fact, I've always felt somewhat odd as I was the only one of my friends who didn't get to watch VH1! So there you go. the late bloomer. But this project will give me the opportunity to sit, watch tv, and take copious notes on all things such as lesbian visibility! Whoo!

4 weeks left of classes -- a list

cultural crit

• Compare 2 versions of Grimm's Snow Drop
• Read criticism/reception of oral tales
• Watch Disney's Snow white
• Read criticism -- what gets removed/introduced/reinforced
• Read Carter criticism -- the Sadeian Woman, selected writings
• Continue typing notes for synthesis paper

Short story

• sort out stories
• get criticism on voyeurism in Carver

Postmodernism

• begin writing synthesis of themes

what it's like now

It was passed 10 pm when I made salad, tomato soup, and pancakes for desert. I was so drained all day that I just ate in front of the tube. I glanced to the left to see myself in the mirror, eating my salad out of a tupperware, and it struck me to think of how many more years will I spend nights like this one--coming home from a night class, eating, reading a bit, and finally pulling myself away from books to catch some decent sleep. I think that perhaps I will never divorce myself from certain habits and rituals. I know of some friends who eat Mac and cheese regularly -- something I never really did myself, but can always sympathize with the comfort it brings.

A grad student in class mentioned how she spent Easter Sunday watching Beaches with her roommates. I chuckled. I thought of all the rituals I used to do with my then roommates in college, like taking naps in between classes. It always strikes me when I think of how long I've been in school and the year(s) still to come.


These days I barely even talk to my roommates. We simply go about our own lives, not opening ourselves to a genuine friendship. We know our time sharing the apt is short, maybe only a year. What's the point? I miss whining about my day when I get home. My roommate bawled some nights ago -- a frustrating event with a boyfriend, no doubt -- but I stayed in my room, worrying about my papers.

a sense of ease

I spent a couple of rough nights unable to sleep. Sometimes I fear that if I pass a certain time -- like past 3:30 am -- I will lose my chances of a full, uninterrupted sleep. Of course, I was preparing for a presentation which, to my surprise, flowed smoothly. It struck me because it was probably the calmest presentation I've had to date, that is, no stuttering or monotone voice and whatnot. Pretty miraculous.

Sure, I need to get the usual sleep rhythm in order, but suddenly I found myself rifling for James's "The Beast in the Jungle." Now, I've never even read a Henry James novel, but stranger things have been known to happen, I guess. It's amazing when out of nowhere one is inspired to just read in bed. Feels likes ages since i've done that, but there you go.

In other news, I was pleasantly surprised when I spoke to my cultural crit prof as though I were talking to a familiar friend. So for a brief moment the prof/student relationship collapsed -- I wanted to go on and open the conversation to my thinking and writing block, but something in held back. It was great just the way it was, so perhaps another time.

closer to fine

I discovered the Indigo Girls doing "Closer to Fine" via Aspiring Academic ,who then led me to listening to this hilarious academic version of the said song at Ph.D comics. I can't say how much that song resonates: "it's only research after all ...my thesis took my posture and shrank it...we don't even workout" but finally it is sad to hear.

And when I'm done with this program, then what? Who knows where I will move? Who knows where I will move? Do I even welcome moving? I can finally place some happy, happy moments in this city -- this life (or lack thereof) -- this year. But moving again and again is a post that I'll keep returning too, no doubt.

One of my best friends decided to move to the city this summer, which means we might move in together, if all goes well. But then Psych girl, my study-at-cafes partner in academia, got a job elsewhere, so she'll be here up until she finishes her dissertation in the summer -- and then who knows? I keep losing friendships here.

loafing

I really should not feel guilty for websurfing since this is, thankfully, my spring break. I managed to get ahead on my readings for next week, but have yet to prepare for presentation and write the damn scholarship application. I tried to do some reading yesterday; in fact, i wholeheartedly planned on actually writing some Carver materials, but what did i find myself doing? A couple -- or maybe even 3 -- nights ago I watched a rerun of Sex and the City, the episode where Miranda gets set up with a woman b/c her coworker mistakenly thought she was a lesbian. Well, I was in the bath and suddenly i found myself rushing out to write about the episode (I was afraid I'd lose the thoughts). Mind you, I only wrote 2 pages, but it felt good to be engaged, question the stakes and risks. I guess I love the "moments" of utter enthusiasm, however rare i think these moments are becoming.

In other news, I started reading Fanny Hill! And before blogging I was suring for transgender articles from Alt.weeklies.com . Not bad for a thursday afternoon, i think. On a sad note, my scheduled happy hour god cancelled. Clearly I must reschedule.

God, i hope to see a film sometime this weekend -- we'll see.

spring break list

Priority:

• read 3 essays and take notes for next monday's class
• read Paley's Enormous Changes at the Last Minute for monday
• research prep work for Carver presentation for next tuesday-- read NYT articles and book reviews.
• email prof about presentation topic and ask questions
• write statement for scholarship due next week
• begin writing thoughts down for the synthesis paper in cultural crit.
• scribble ideas for PoMo class

think about:

• prospectus for cultural crit: Coover and Carter comparison, or lesbian vampire short story? maybe work on a film?
• read criticism for Carter and C0over
• read postmodernism criticism -- Jameson?
• prospectus for Carver: voyeurism and desire, or "queer" readings of a few stories? must decide on stories to focus on.
• read Carver country, plus books reviews and journal articles, voyeurism in Carver.

hanging over my head:

• one presentation remaining
• 3 final papers (technically 4, because of the synthesis paper!)
• look for a summer JOB. gah!

what I would like to read for leisure but unlikely:

• Fanny Hill
• Metastases of Enjoyment
• essay by Berlant in Left Critique

Sigh. Of course, I hope to be productive this week, but in between happy hour, season 5 of the Sopranos, maybe History of Violence and laundry, well, we'll see how much I get done. I'm going to try to get myself to work in the cafe in the afternoons and see how that fairs.

saturday music videos

the wonders of surfing the net: shoegaze music videos from all the favorites of the early 90s.

playlist includes Ride, Lush, cocteau twins, slowdive, and SO much more. Related is the indiepop playlist, and there is also a britpop (with Suede!) and goth play list as well. But below are some favorites:

my bloody valentine -- soon
primal scream -- higher than the sun
pale saints -- kinky love
stone roses -- I wanna be adored
JAMC -- happy when it rains
Air -- cherry blossom girl

sigh.. oh the days

debt

I was over psych girl's pad in the heart of downtown shopping center last night. After making our own strawberry martini mix on a Friday night -- that is, after we left the local pub where we met a brave soul who said he didn't like Auster! -- we, or rather I, grumbled about my student loans.

backstory: psych girl and I met by chance whilst walking down the street; it was Halloween night and we happen to be heading in the same direction, or lack thereof. The public trans system was on halt b/c a bunch of crazy students decided to walk IN the tunnel after X-line broke down. As we were both new to the city and hadn't a clue as to where the hell we were headed (we were following the crowd), we finally shared a cab, exchanged digits and email. In retrospect, I think that's what I love about living in new to a city -- the random (and sometimes pregnant) exchanges with people.

Anyway, she turns out to be a 5th year counseling psychology grad student at Brand Name U, and is thus currently frantic about her diss writing -- or again, lack thereof. So I was in my usual and boring (or favorite?) topic of conversation: should I enter the PhD program after my MA or not? a 9-5 sucks too but the piled student debt? Sigh. She tells me her loan history thus far: 10, 000 ish at private women's college in Boston; approximately 25,000 ish at Harvard (where she did a one year MA program); and currently owes nothing, NOTHING at another Brand Name School -- after 5 years? I was totally astounded. Of course, she slaves away with all the scholarship and grant essays, but owes nothing? Do social science grad students really get more funding?? Even more, I was totally awestrucked when she showed me an article that she co-wrote with her advisor, and has another chapter that just got accepted and will be published by Oxford press!! Sheer Brilliance. what about me? bewildered, as usual.

But I am happy to be in the company of admirable students.

Saturday night: no work -- it's spring break!! a list of plans tomorrow for sure!

worn out

It's at this point of the semester where I inevitably just lose the energy to focus on my work. I think I may be officially weary of my classes. Maybe I'm just in a funk, I tell myself, but I don't want to pick up my books. I want the semester to be over already -- it's too long. I took a day off today because god knows I certainly wasn't going to miss anything in short story class. What I know is that no matter how much I adore a writer, never take the class if the prof doesn't "excite" you. O well.

Of course I totally abandoned my things-to-do-before-noon list, which is okay b/c laundry and grocery and a trip to bank weren't too important. THough i did want these tasks out out of the way. So I sat myself on my table, pulled out 3 bio/criticism, and managed to skim through only 1 and half (half b/c it was part picture book, so okay, maybe 2 books). But I didn't take enough notes since nothing seemed to grab me. The annoying part is that I took the day off to narrow down the possible topics for presentation and final paper, and I'm back to square one: I could do X or Y or could do both and add Z theme. It's frustrating, to say the least, and the worst part is that I started going to bed at 3 am and waking at 11 am again. I set my alarm earlier, but sleep is so precious now.

Okay, so its 11:35 pm. I need to at crank out an hour of reading and hope that my eyes will glaze over that I turn in early. Two more days of classes and I can unwind at happy hour. Seriously my saving grace recently -- okay, the past two weeks -- has been talking, drunkenly, with these gals from my theory class last semester. We've planned to shake our feathers at an 80s club. I am so ready for my Spring break next week -- yes, very late in the semester.

Here's a quote from Milan Kundera's The Unberable Lightness of Being:

We can never know what to want,

because, living only one life, we neither

compare it with our previous lives

nor perfect it in our lives to come.

One of these days I will read this book. Right now it seems nearly perfect.

driven by something.

I goofed around the internet for the last two hours, searching for books I can borrow from my library, and then blog surfing took over. It is past 1 am. I am exhausted (and have been feeling mechanical for the last two weeks). My neck and shoulders are tight. The downward dog pose seems to be on demand, you know, just to loosen up and stop thinking for a while. I watched Sex and the City reruns two nights in a row and have been randomly switching channels to pass time. Pass time -- even I'm in disbelief as I write this. But that's right -- I watched regular TV. Perhaps it was a mental breakdown just a couple of nights before my paper was due. Ah, no. Procrastination, my faithful friend.

It is still raining -- wasn't a month of rain enough? No, apparently not. I jokingly said to a friend tonight that it will probably rain for the next 2 months. Probably. Two is magical number tonight.

So, happily, I handed in my paper -- it is done. A sigh of relief. And now back to the shuffle of things, only this time -- however fleeting a moment -- I am giddy and excited. Finally? I walked out of class tonight feeling invigorated and ready to ask questions, make lists, think of end of the semester papers. I feel a certain urgency to reflect on my current interests. Are the ideas evolving? Becoming complicated, I want to say, is my fantasy. I want a trace of what it is I am doing, and where I going with it. I have a chain of scholars/critics that I am thrilled about. I want a connection (need a faster connection?)

Perhaps I was hibernating.

Just two more months left in the semester. I am content, once again. Strange -- what else?

More lists to come, doubtless.

mixed

Considerate Artist

After visiting several blogs, I decided to take the personality test too. While the result is mostly accurate -- considerate, open, quiet -- I feel uneasy and highly suspicious of what it says about me, as though I need to somehow disprove that I am all of these things. Similarly, I react the same upon receiving compliments and feel the need to say, "Gee, thanks" with a bewildered expression, only to say, "moving along" in silence. Apparently I spend more time thinking of the "why" questions and less about the "how." My reaction smacks of insecurity, but nothing new there.

Today my cultural crit prof made a reference to a comment I made on Monday, which surprised me (in a good way). My prof isn't easily approachable and can be quite intimidating and stoic that it's hard to tell what he thinks about our comments, and ultimately our intellectual maturity. But here I go again seeking some kind of approval, some validation that I am somehow on the "right" track. So I was content, if only to feel that I contributed something to our discussion, which always makes a difference at the end of the day. Too bad I can't say that my other lit classes are as stimulating as cultural crit.

I have a potential idea for the final paper but still rather inchoate. Idea one is to look at Angela Carter's "The Bloody Chamber" and perhaps think about destablizing fairy tales, myths, the cult of innocence, virginity, and the sadomasochism. I need to look at some articles and see what's being said. Of course, I can also work with a film and link Carter's stories -- I think I love her.

reading goal in 1.5 hours

I need to learn to break my "things to read" list into smaller chunks throughout the day. I've imbibed 2 cups of coffee thus far, so i'm more or less good to go. Task: 3 semi-short essays to read, plus write -- type -- the claims, reasons, and warrants for each one -- it's now 2:20 pm and i need to get this done by 4 pm. Let me at least get something done this Friday afternoon. Now, if it doesn't rain later in the day I should treat myself to Indian take out (unless friend joins me and we eat in, though unlikely at this point of the day). Okay! Maybe I can even squeeze a shorter piece.

update : 12:12 am

Evidently I have a poor sense of how much work I can accomplish in 1.5 hours. Now, the important thing to note is that I did 2 out 3 readings and was able to connect the authenticiy essays and articles with other materials and note some questions. (which reminds me, must bring up Frey in our class discussion in light of authorship/authenticity).

Henry Louis Gates's 1991 NYT book review of "Education of Little Tree" quotes Samuel Goldwyn's "theory of sincerity, authenticity remians essential: once you can fake that, you've got it made." Now that's pretty apt -- maybe there is still new work to be done in authorship.

Anyway, glad I got something done. On a sad note: never made it to Indian food either. It hailed! So I wound up making pasta, which was great but not quite what my tastebuds craved. One last note: yesterday I also saw TransAmerica, which I enjoyed for the most part. There were a couple of scenes that were pretty exciting (in a kind of "whoa, it would be interesting -- creepy -- if the son made out with the father, no, wait, I mean 'mother.'" But it was also kind of tame. O well, still good to see.

If I can get more done saturday, then I might see a Pinter play with my theory class!

it's about time!

Hooray -- I finally got down to our library and checked out a bunch of books I've been coveting, which saved me at least $60. Too bad the Butler and Garber I wanted were checked out, but there you go. Now I can keep renewing these books until the semester ends!

Feeling good already.

agitation

Okay, so I tend to participate in crit class a lot, but I am too grounded in text. That's me -- not to the point where I think the work is unalterable, but I make references to the text, reminding people what such critic said, you know, to remind me what the critic is arguing about. It saddens me, however, to admit it is sickening in lots of ways; but now I am aware of what I do.

Problem: too much theory -- or theorizing -- paralyzes people from engaging in a serious debate, or not even debates but just candidly talking -- opening up conversations about problems/arguments /assumptions at stake. What else? sounds like a debate about theory vs practice, that is, effecting change on a grassroots level.

How do you talk about culture when there is too much theory? What happens? exclusion and alienation. What do you do, or how do you address a problem when part of the problem lies in the power structures of an institution? publish an article that addresses concerns?

Sometimes I think I am really, really close to articulating what Cultural prof says, but still not quite, and I end up feeling like a pebble, a speck, a piece of unwanted lint. But it is strange to work with Cultural prof knowing that he is grounded in psychoanalysis, b/c everything seems to come down to internalization of power structures to the point where one no longer questions but accepts the institution, complicit in its actions.

another problem: Now, do I spout psychoanalytic jargon b/c I have internalized my Prof's bent, b/c i noticed that i've been leaning towards internalization and mass fantasy and i can't tell if i really think that, or i've suddenly been influenced by prof. In other words, am I just feeding prof what he wants to hear? like a pat on my back? Hm. what other explantions did I have before the internalization of big Other?


(example in class: not voting as a woman, but internalizing and therefore subscribing to the dominant institutional ideology).

Reminder:
Post about Dr. Ivy league's advice.

embracing geekdom

I didn't realize until this afternoon what a bunch of geeks we -- lit people -- really are. A friend of mine hosted a Sunday brunch reunion with folks from my theory class, and I have to say it was kind of surreal and exciting and strange. Yes, a strange bubble, a haven, a culture of book enthusiasts, thinkers, and writers -- doubtless.

I had always speculated what academic faculty parties might be like: folks talking about recent books/articles they've read or published, indelibly impressing peers (and no, our shindig wasn't the kind geek fest that had participants reciting Beowulf lines in Old English); but still, in our own strange way we resemble the kind of community I imagined myself a part of, where lofty aspirations -- literary or not -- bounce off from one another, a space full of energy.

Like any brunch that serves mimosas and Italian sparkling wine, some of us had too many and was rambling on and on. Finally, I got the opportunity to talk to my theory prof in a non-academic setting, which was nice and intimate. I don't think I could have asked about her own specific work and interest during office hours, so it was a real treat to hear her so excited about a vampire course she is conceiving; heck, it was thriling just to be able to talk to her on a personal level. So at one point I mentioned how her class was so much more "ambitious" than my other classes -- I can't believe I admitted it to her -- but I guess at one point I fantasized describing how much I adored her and to her work (this is the same Dr. Ivy league I am talking about). I am certain she found it amusing -- indeed it was a compliment! -- but I was also simultaneously caught off guard. But she was there ... listening, and I wondered if being with us was a kind of nostalgic trip to the early years of graduate life, as young novices.

debt/death -- who can tell the difference?

I was trying to actually organize my bookshelf and my closet and sort things out.

wishful self 1: Can i really afford to get a couple of sweaters dry cleaned?

practical self: Okay, not really.

naive self : Is it possible for me to stay away from shops for the month of March?

practical self: I probably could if I didn't go to downtown so much out of boredom.

wise, experienced self: But if i didn't get out as much, well, I will get myself in trouble with Amazon or itunes.

practical self: good point -- i've seen that before.

in debt self: do not go to Sephora because you have the essentials -- that's all the matters. Remember to save for pub nite. Do not go to coffeeshops b/c you brew great coffee. NO MORE theory books. Currently you just got: 1) Fink 2) Delueze 3) Zizek 4) new Auster 5) Wendy Brown. And that's not even for classes. You have enough to tide you over!!!

wishful self: oooooh, but look at the latest distraction: David Aubrey jewerly!!! What if i just get a set and then stop? boy oh boy this is too much.

go to bed. stop stop stop.

please stop the rain already

All this rain is making me feel lethargic. okay, so i'm feeling really listy. Here's what i'd like to accomplish later this morning: 1) read Freud's "A Child Is Being Beaten" (not required but good to pair up with last essay). (Okay blogger is totally recalcitrant right now and does not want me to create bullet style posts! arg.) 2) Read Wendy Brown's introduction to Left Legalism (maybe even before bed). 3) Read Carter's the bloody Chamber (at least one short novel). 4) maybe watch Transamerica (That is if it doesn't rain). 5) Do one load of laundry? hm. 6) tidy up desk area? okay must stop blogger is driving bonkers!!!

woe is me.

Been a while since i've really reflected, but mostly because I’ve been out of sorts (story of February, you might say). So, classes for me have been pretty mechanical and therefore lacking enthusiasm and motivation. Another dreaded question about what will be the next step. My guess is I’m afraid to imagine myself not in school. What would I be doing? Not teaching that’s for sure. The thing is I’m not sure if I ever will, and maybe that's okay. Still, one has to wonder – worry, really – you know?
update: one week later -- so that was me last week.

impossiblity

this is going to be another terse post, I'm afraid. Racing against time as I type. Quickly, though, I've been paranoid recently and i've taken down the "blogs I read" and also most my profile, mostly because i've "outed" myself as blogger a couple of times, and now feel strange about ranting about my short story class (we might talk about the phenonmena of blogs in class, which makes me feel uneasy.

what else? Impossiblity is the operating word these days -- what do you do once you're done destablizing categories, identities. How can I move beyond this? How do you bring about changing the canon? and what about skills?

reminders

pressed for time, but soon :

• rant about short story prof's teaching style, classroom management, and lack of productivity.
• defense and blogging reflection
• Program dislike vs. Dr. Ivy League's seminars -- what works, what doesn't
• new goals for semester
• reflect on conference -- what is helpful?

tackling it all

Certainly tonight I am feeling much better. "Love will get you like a case of Anthrax and that's something I don't want to catch" yup, listening to Gang of Four and browsing Amazon for used Butler, Warner, Sedgwick -- and I am supremely psyched. No matter how rare a moment I am really content tonight and wish I can surround myself with books sprawled all over my desk, consuming each one. It is nice.

You really got me ... all over again

Patsy Cline’s “Strange” plays in my head, almost immediately she emerges in my strangest of moods. Several things come to mind as I finished class tonight: I thought about “voice” -- that is, hearing my own voice (my identity) when I write papers. Am I even conscious of listening to my voice when I compose? I suppose I don’t pay too much attention or care to it, but today I felt that this time I am going to personalize these papers more; in short, I want to noticed.

Thus far I am doing well; in fact, strangely I am sharing my comments/thoughts in my seminar—an improvement for me, no doubt, and it seemed so clear, then, how important it was -- is -- for me to voice out my thoughts, to let them know who I am.

And then tonight as I was reading some short stories of Raymond Carver, the past came flooding back. For the past week, I was cranky, whiny, and unenthusiastic about my classes. Why? Because last semester I wound up enjoying my theory classes so much that my fiction classes this semester seemed, at first, rather lacking. Now reading Carver – and falling in love with these short stories once again – I am reminded of the places, the people, the books I once loved. The person I was who loved all of these things seemed so distant and yet I haven’t left at all. No – in fact, I haven’t changed at all, but all of these fragments, I suppose, were stored, locked up safely.

And so I thought about my last semester of college: behind the English Department was a bridge to the Music and Drama buildings. It was at this metallic silver café where I spent my afternoons, with my feet resting on another seat, absorbing the sun and breezy OC weather. This was a place I remember falling in love with folks David Leavitt. But I am, once again, nostalgic. (Where does one go now? Today in huge cafeteria, the kind of sad place like the supermarket).

And so I think this semester could be that period the will remind me of why I am here in the first place, doing what I know – all for the love of reading and the life of the mind.

I do love the Carver. Maybe I will always reflect on that spring semester, almost 3 and ½ years ago, when everything seemed golden. I don’t think my memory of that place will ever tarnish, or be long forgotten; but I do hope to make new memories like it, like tonight as I discover Carver all over again.

Bouts of confusion

Once again thoughts of leaving the city have been swirling in my head for the last few nights. Maybe it’s just the beginning of the semester anxiety; in fact, I have no doubt that all this is just a spell. I’ve been here for only 6 months and I find myself planning to move away from here; of course, I wouldn’t mind retiring in this city because it is lovely in lots of ways, but already I’ve been itching to break free.

I whine that this city is too small, and have even grown impatient to riding public trans. In general I wait for so many things, like today I thought, gee, I wonder at one point in my life when I’ll be able to afford a washer and dryer machine? Or Jonathan Adler dinner plates? It seems so far away.

In the end, I wonder if I can even commit to 6 more years of school – and then what? I feel like variations of these type of questions – what next? what now? -- will haunt me for years to come, and then how does one deal with it?

Maybe the reasons why I can’t see myself continuing or even teaching is an indication that I need to acknowledge my limitations and not be afraid of Big Other(s).

suspiciously like a new year's resolution

Now that most of my classes are in the afternoon (as opposed to evening last semester) I can actually attempt to sleep much ealier -- or earlier than usual. What else? must continue with yoga, watch the caffeine intake, eat more fruits.

And while you are studying hard, don't forget to drink and socialize with flesh and blood people. Like the guy said at the club, "you're brave" -- so heed that compliment and apply it to other areas other than dancing.


must exert all enery to focusing on smaller tasks -- you know, like browsing at journals and reading essays; and eventually you'll see a bigger picture.

more about seminars...

less than ideal

Is it too soon to whine about classes so early in the semester? Frankly there aren't any interesting seminars offered, well, classes that are up my alley anyway. I am, however, excited about one class on Cultural studies. So what do you do? Somehow make it a place in which I can thrive? A year ago I really thought I would be able to study author X or Critic Y and Z and it would consume my very being, but perhaps it's just a reverie. I am finding that all the interesting material i discover are books, ideas, opinions that I'm not studying in classes or with colleagues. Maybe that is the point, eh? It's all autonomous reading and research, which isn't terrible but some guidance, more direction early in our studies would be helpful -- no, useful in really seeing ourselves out of our box, the what-do-we-do-with-our-master's. What to do? Talk to as many professors who are willing to help, I guess. What is there left to do? Solicit advice and whatnot.

just a little steam

I've been loafing, but mostly thinking -- worrying, I guess -- that I can't even write a longer post. I am exhausted in so many ways. I can't sleep if I don't write, but i've been killing myself for the last few days sleeping in the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes I think I really will just fall over and not know what hit me. I want to just whine and not care or think for a while.

quickly: more about the new year soon. Still at my folks -- can't wait to be back to foggy city, i think? -- but foggy city is too small (i can't belive I am saying this) and must get out after I am done with these 2 years of school. What am i going to do... can i sleep now? please. like 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep.