(no subject)
Two more weeks left of the semester. I still have two papers to write, one down. That's not going to be fun. I could get more in depth and explain how the one paper is debating the place of teaching formal grammar in the college writing classroom, questioning whether it actually helps students become better writers, and the other paper is about the absence of women and women's liberation in he writings of the beat generation, primarily Allen Ginsberg's Howl...but that would just be boring. I almost fell asleep just typing that. I will also be teaching next semester...sooo nervous. Monday Wednesday Friday from 10:00 to 10:50, in case you would like to come sit in on a class. I will be the one at the front of the room having no clue what she's doing. My teaching philosophy is just to wing it.
I've been making this awful to do lists lately. Nothing ever gets completely done and I feel less accomplished than when I started. This week I need to do the following:
1. Vacuum (I'm surprised Ashlee hasn't killed me in my sleep yet for this one)
2. Write my EN 589 paper
3. Buy/send Becky's birthday card (she was born the day John Lennon died, the actual day)
4. Write draft of En 573 paper
5. Read selections of Shakespeare's sonnets and Astrophil and Stella (that will be an exciting time)
That doesn't seem like too long of a list, but the two papers I have to writer are supposed to be around 15 pages each. Whoops. Maybe I'm putting undue strain on myself for how well I should do in these classes. I want to try to have the best academic record I can in my MA program to make getting into PhD programs all the easier. But then I get into the whole thinking about the future thing and that gets scary. I told my mom the other day that I'm thinking of going to Japan for a year to teach English. We didn't talk much about it because it was brought up within the context that her friend is now in the mental health unit of the hospital after having a break down when her son was leaving for Africa with the Peace Corps. Right now the only thing I can see stopping me from going is my fucking car payment. So I'm trying to save up enough money to pay for it while I'm gone. How sad is that. But I like my car and I don't want to sell it. Yes, I'm attached to some material possessions and I don't care who knows it.
I've faced some harsh rejection in the past few weeks. Nothing I'm going to get too much into here, but it caused me to questions my writing abilities, and therefore my choice of future in general. Maybe I'm not as good at this as I thought. It still hasn't worn off. I'm pissed.
I've been making this awful to do lists lately. Nothing ever gets completely done and I feel less accomplished than when I started. This week I need to do the following:
1. Vacuum (I'm surprised Ashlee hasn't killed me in my sleep yet for this one)
2. Write my EN 589 paper
3. Buy/send Becky's birthday card (she was born the day John Lennon died, the actual day)
4. Write draft of En 573 paper
5. Read selections of Shakespeare's sonnets and Astrophil and Stella (that will be an exciting time)
That doesn't seem like too long of a list, but the two papers I have to writer are supposed to be around 15 pages each. Whoops. Maybe I'm putting undue strain on myself for how well I should do in these classes. I want to try to have the best academic record I can in my MA program to make getting into PhD programs all the easier. But then I get into the whole thinking about the future thing and that gets scary. I told my mom the other day that I'm thinking of going to Japan for a year to teach English. We didn't talk much about it because it was brought up within the context that her friend is now in the mental health unit of the hospital after having a break down when her son was leaving for Africa with the Peace Corps. Right now the only thing I can see stopping me from going is my fucking car payment. So I'm trying to save up enough money to pay for it while I'm gone. How sad is that. But I like my car and I don't want to sell it. Yes, I'm attached to some material possessions and I don't care who knows it.
I've faced some harsh rejection in the past few weeks. Nothing I'm going to get too much into here, but it caused me to questions my writing abilities, and therefore my choice of future in general. Maybe I'm not as good at this as I thought. It still hasn't worn off. I'm pissed.