(no subject)
Hey, virtual friends, long time no see. It's that time again - essay procrastination. In this case, it's the one thing standing between me and my spring break - a four page paper on Thomas Aquinas and Edward Hopper. And I will do it. I will do it. But first I will update my Livejournal.
Most exciting news first: TRAVEL. Now, I'm not a big traveler. I don't have itchy feet. I could probably stay within a ten mile radius for much longer than your average bear (insert witty comment about vagility [yes, this is a word and the correct one to use in this situation, look it up if you don't believe me] of bears here). But I have two very exciting travel opportunities coming up.
One: For reasons I cannot explain, there's some part of me wants to see Graceland. So we're going. Leaving early Saturday morning, driving eleven hours in Jared's grey Camry, staying in a Days Inn in Memphis, seeing the Civil Rights Museum and Stax Records and, of course, the house itself. I am making mix CDs and packing shorts.
Two: LONDON. On a Wednesday in June, Clarissa Dalloway walked through the park and Septimus Warren Smith killed himself. On Wednesdays in July, I will be studying British feminism, seeing plays and shows, and living in a dormitory in central London. I know. It's too good to be true. It really is. I can't believe it. Fuckin' LONDON. Where it all went down! Everything! The Globe! Big Ben! Buckingham Palace! The Battle of Canary Wharf! LONDON! I fully expect to meet a bespectacled time traveler there.
In academic news, German has finally started kicking my ass. But that's okay. I love it, as a language, so I'm willing to take kind of a beating. I'm in a great class about heroines in 20th century literature, in which I've read a whole host of English and American literature about women: House of Mirth, The Awakening, To The Lighthouse, Mrs. Dalloway, The Hours, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and it will continue. I'm also in a weirdo interdisciplinary RC class about critical approaches to literature, which has introduced me to the aforementioned Hopper and Aquinas, as well as Mark Rothko, Sylvia Plath, and Clement Greenberg. It's just crazy enough that it works. And then writing. And who ever knows how that's going.
Socially, everything's going smoothly, after a few minor bumps at the beginning of the road. I knit myself a pink pullover, and I've just started a blue cardigan. My dad and my dog sent me a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day. Oh, and Jared visited me over Christmas and my birthday and it was, honestly speaking, the best Christmas I've ever had. As a final note, I am right now in the process of proving that more you want someone to like you, the less likely it is that they will, because the more likely it is that you will act like a socially neurotic weirdo. But eh. The problem with being awkward but not shy is that you know what you want and you know how to get it and you want to get it, but forcing yourself to do it is like walking through a rubber sheet. But I soldier on! Nervously and frizzily!
Hope all is well for you too.
Most exciting news first: TRAVEL. Now, I'm not a big traveler. I don't have itchy feet. I could probably stay within a ten mile radius for much longer than your average bear (insert witty comment about vagility [yes, this is a word and the correct one to use in this situation, look it up if you don't believe me] of bears here). But I have two very exciting travel opportunities coming up.
One: For reasons I cannot explain, there's some part of me wants to see Graceland. So we're going. Leaving early Saturday morning, driving eleven hours in Jared's grey Camry, staying in a Days Inn in Memphis, seeing the Civil Rights Museum and Stax Records and, of course, the house itself. I am making mix CDs and packing shorts.
Two: LONDON. On a Wednesday in June, Clarissa Dalloway walked through the park and Septimus Warren Smith killed himself. On Wednesdays in July, I will be studying British feminism, seeing plays and shows, and living in a dormitory in central London. I know. It's too good to be true. It really is. I can't believe it. Fuckin' LONDON. Where it all went down! Everything! The Globe! Big Ben! Buckingham Palace! The Battle of Canary Wharf! LONDON! I fully expect to meet a bespectacled time traveler there.
In academic news, German has finally started kicking my ass. But that's okay. I love it, as a language, so I'm willing to take kind of a beating. I'm in a great class about heroines in 20th century literature, in which I've read a whole host of English and American literature about women: House of Mirth, The Awakening, To The Lighthouse, Mrs. Dalloway, The Hours, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and it will continue. I'm also in a weirdo interdisciplinary RC class about critical approaches to literature, which has introduced me to the aforementioned Hopper and Aquinas, as well as Mark Rothko, Sylvia Plath, and Clement Greenberg. It's just crazy enough that it works. And then writing. And who ever knows how that's going.
Socially, everything's going smoothly, after a few minor bumps at the beginning of the road. I knit myself a pink pullover, and I've just started a blue cardigan. My dad and my dog sent me a dozen red roses on Valentine's Day. Oh, and Jared visited me over Christmas and my birthday and it was, honestly speaking, the best Christmas I've ever had. As a final note, I am right now in the process of proving that more you want someone to like you, the less likely it is that they will, because the more likely it is that you will act like a socially neurotic weirdo. But eh. The problem with being awkward but not shy is that you know what you want and you know how to get it and you want to get it, but forcing yourself to do it is like walking through a rubber sheet. But I soldier on! Nervously and frizzily!
Hope all is well for you too.