The semester in review
Well, I think I finally exhaled. The semester is over. Next semester will probably be worse (two quasi theory classes), but all in all, I'm done.
The paper I wrote for the Hawthorne/Melville class got me an A-, or as we of old Chico stock like to refer to it, an Aiping. I kind of feel bad about that. I realize that an A minus is really nothing to feel bad about, but nonetheless I do. For those of you who've never been to grad school, the papers are twenty to twenty five pages in length. I realize that its not realistic, but when you write that much you really do feel you should get an A just for the effort. In addition to said effort, I think I also made a pretty convincing argument, and it was a new argument. Do you have any idea how hard it is to say something new about The Scarlet Letter? Still, A-.
Why, you may ask? Grammer problems were cited, but that wasn't really the case. He didn't like that I called Dimmesdale "reverand" rather than "minister." How fucked up is that?! Also, I tend to have a lot of space between my subject and my verb. Technically that's not grammatically incorrect. It may be annoying, but it's still correct. Regardless, I'm not going to argue with the man. Near as I can tell, everyone got an A-, including the girl who didn't know what supernatural meant. Graduate level my ass.
As far as the AfAm class, I don't know. I scrapped paper idea after paper idea after paper idea. Finally I settled in on giving a reading of Everett's Erasure related to the usurpation of expressionist art by cubism. This resulted in something like the liar's paradox, but steeped about five levels deep. Recursion is a tricky thing to describe, especially when it relies on paradox. Hell, Borges made a whole career out of that sort of thing. Did I pull it off? I think so. What I've learned is that a year off without having to use my brain has put my writing skills in the shitter. Talk in class, fine. Read the books, fine. Pull off a twenty page argument, not so fine. I don't think it helps that I consider this "the big school." Trying to impress the experts is not helping my writing.
The problem is, of course, that I am a scholar. And I am no longer in school. Thus, I am relaxing, but at the same time, I haven't a clue what to do with myself. I'd paint some new stuff, but the Christmas snow that came the day after Christmas has made it impossible to put primer on anything. I got a Chaos Defiler and a Ruined Cathedral. I've been working on my Land Raider, but damned if I didn't lose a part. Maybe it's time to break out the dremmel, and figure out how to make things.
Mostly, I play Half Life answer the ten e-mails from my Winter session students (class hasn't started) and wander around the house. A scholar without school is a funny thing. I've lost track of which day it is. Last night, I wanted to put out the garbage, assuming that it might be Wednesday. I've started reading a number of books, but that's just it, started. I started Libra and Uncle Tom's Cabin. Now I'm on Vineland (thanks Kyle), which I think I'm going to stick to. It's damn funny. Well that's life on this gray late December day.
The paper I wrote for the Hawthorne/Melville class got me an A-, or as we of old Chico stock like to refer to it, an Aiping. I kind of feel bad about that. I realize that an A minus is really nothing to feel bad about, but nonetheless I do. For those of you who've never been to grad school, the papers are twenty to twenty five pages in length. I realize that its not realistic, but when you write that much you really do feel you should get an A just for the effort. In addition to said effort, I think I also made a pretty convincing argument, and it was a new argument. Do you have any idea how hard it is to say something new about The Scarlet Letter? Still, A-.
Why, you may ask? Grammer problems were cited, but that wasn't really the case. He didn't like that I called Dimmesdale "reverand" rather than "minister." How fucked up is that?! Also, I tend to have a lot of space between my subject and my verb. Technically that's not grammatically incorrect. It may be annoying, but it's still correct. Regardless, I'm not going to argue with the man. Near as I can tell, everyone got an A-, including the girl who didn't know what supernatural meant. Graduate level my ass.
As far as the AfAm class, I don't know. I scrapped paper idea after paper idea after paper idea. Finally I settled in on giving a reading of Everett's Erasure related to the usurpation of expressionist art by cubism. This resulted in something like the liar's paradox, but steeped about five levels deep. Recursion is a tricky thing to describe, especially when it relies on paradox. Hell, Borges made a whole career out of that sort of thing. Did I pull it off? I think so. What I've learned is that a year off without having to use my brain has put my writing skills in the shitter. Talk in class, fine. Read the books, fine. Pull off a twenty page argument, not so fine. I don't think it helps that I consider this "the big school." Trying to impress the experts is not helping my writing.
The problem is, of course, that I am a scholar. And I am no longer in school. Thus, I am relaxing, but at the same time, I haven't a clue what to do with myself. I'd paint some new stuff, but the Christmas snow that came the day after Christmas has made it impossible to put primer on anything. I got a Chaos Defiler and a Ruined Cathedral. I've been working on my Land Raider, but damned if I didn't lose a part. Maybe it's time to break out the dremmel, and figure out how to make things.
Mostly, I play Half Life answer the ten e-mails from my Winter session students (class hasn't started) and wander around the house. A scholar without school is a funny thing. I've lost track of which day it is. Last night, I wanted to put out the garbage, assuming that it might be Wednesday. I've started reading a number of books, but that's just it, started. I started Libra and Uncle Tom's Cabin. Now I'm on Vineland (thanks Kyle), which I think I'm going to stick to. It's damn funny. Well that's life on this gray late December day.
posted by Monstro D. Whale at
2:49 PM
1 Comments:
Hence the problem of being a scholar -- you can't really relax. Oh yeah, you hemoan no time to even catch a breath when you are doing the 82 and a half billion things that need to be done as a grad student teaching, researching, writing, reading and occasionally getting something finished -- but give you a break and you actually don't read that pile of books you would read if you "had the time," or catch a movie, or sleep in until say . . . summer when it gets above 50 degrees out. You could write, but you end up stalking the apartment or watching whatever drivil is on afternoon TV. You know it's bad when you look forward to whatever is on at 3:30 P.M.
Cold weather makes it worse. You're stuck inside. You're cold. Your primer won't set. It's called cabin fever.
So the only cure until the race begins again -- i.e. having to teach that winter session class of yours -- is to triumphantly waste time. Video games are excellent for this. You sit and veg for many an hour. Might I suggest something literary like Simpsons Hit and Run?
Naps are good. No day is truly wasted if you have served as a cat bed.
And there is always coming up with something to write that is not the thing that you really should be writing. In your case you will probably avoid writing Shock T. Or avoid writing that final tower. Might I suggest a series of haiku "Why I Voted For Bush" responses to your blog query?
Remember 5, 7, 5
IQ, Circle of Hell, and number of minutes his body would still run around like a chicken if we removed his head.
Post a Comment
<< Home