Prevent is not prevent?
I really do think things fall more nicely into place if we don't necessarily assume Caliban never attempted to rape Miranda.
Last year I saw a production of The Tempest with Blair Brown, who I generally like, as "Prospera." The production sucked royally. They omitted all the parts where Prospero asked Miranda if she was paying attention. "Prospera" just told Miranda the story of "her past" straight through, without any interruption. I think whoever decided to do that really fucked everything up.
Anyway, this morning I buried myself in the student center and consumed a lot of liquid. For some reason, even though I've been extraordinary at keeping up with my reading this semester, I completely forgot that I would have to write papers, so I just sort of put this one off until now.
Let me give an arrogant little monologue about how I write papers.
I write slowly. You wouldn't think it from reading my incoherent LJs because this journal is more of a masturbatory stream of consciousness than anything else, but when I write papers, it's a completely different story. I would say about 99% of my paper writing is composed of staring blankly into space. This staring is hardly unproductive - indeed, if I didn't stare into space, I couldn't produce all the brilliance that I produce. The benefit of writing slowly, for me, is that it doesn't matter when I don't proofread. I have handed in papers without ever looking over them, been extensively praised by my professors for these papers, and read them over and found not a single grammatical error. However, the downside is that writing is excruciating - I have been known to spend about 45 minutes on a single sentence, and, let me assure you, it is painful.
Another drawback to this process is that it makes me entirely self-conscious. I pretty much have to be alone. If someone else is with me, I either feel afraid that they will interrupt my train of thought, thinking I am simply being idle, or, worse, I feel guilty. I feel like I must look very menacing. Today, a girl at the student center sat next to me and was crying. Of course I was staring right in her direction, which must have made her think I was staring at her, which made me feel awful. So now I've escaped to the computer lab, which is bad because I'm going home for the night and won't be able to work there.
Come to think of it, I stare into space most of the time, whether I'm writing or not. When new people encounter me, they usually think I'm very stupid, very shy, or are afraid of me.
Last year I saw a production of The Tempest with Blair Brown, who I generally like, as "Prospera." The production sucked royally. They omitted all the parts where Prospero asked Miranda if she was paying attention. "Prospera" just told Miranda the story of "her past" straight through, without any interruption. I think whoever decided to do that really fucked everything up.
Anyway, this morning I buried myself in the student center and consumed a lot of liquid. For some reason, even though I've been extraordinary at keeping up with my reading this semester, I completely forgot that I would have to write papers, so I just sort of put this one off until now.
Let me give an arrogant little monologue about how I write papers.
I write slowly. You wouldn't think it from reading my incoherent LJs because this journal is more of a masturbatory stream of consciousness than anything else, but when I write papers, it's a completely different story. I would say about 99% of my paper writing is composed of staring blankly into space. This staring is hardly unproductive - indeed, if I didn't stare into space, I couldn't produce all the brilliance that I produce. The benefit of writing slowly, for me, is that it doesn't matter when I don't proofread. I have handed in papers without ever looking over them, been extensively praised by my professors for these papers, and read them over and found not a single grammatical error. However, the downside is that writing is excruciating - I have been known to spend about 45 minutes on a single sentence, and, let me assure you, it is painful.
Another drawback to this process is that it makes me entirely self-conscious. I pretty much have to be alone. If someone else is with me, I either feel afraid that they will interrupt my train of thought, thinking I am simply being idle, or, worse, I feel guilty. I feel like I must look very menacing. Today, a girl at the student center sat next to me and was crying. Of course I was staring right in her direction, which must have made her think I was staring at her, which made me feel awful. So now I've escaped to the computer lab, which is bad because I'm going home for the night and won't be able to work there.
Come to think of it, I stare into space most of the time, whether I'm writing or not. When new people encounter me, they usually think I'm very stupid, very shy, or are afraid of me.