Exact Change: (Makes) No Sense
Work is coming along somewhat nicely. This is going to be a very busy weekend though, especially because the roommate that I usually drink with on Saturday nights won't be in town. So it looks like I'll be beginning my full-scale assault on my research projects this weekend...
So far, I think they're coming along nicely. I've assembled a large pile of critical material for two of them and now I just need to begin weeding through them to find a way to narrow my initial questions about the texts I'm writing on. (And by the way, I can't believe that I finally made it completely through Dos Passos' U.S.A. I feel amazing, but also somewhat lost now. I spent the last two and a half months reading through its 1200 pages, getting lost in his mural of America, in the "voice of people" as he describes the cumulative effect of all the various tales in it. Of everyone that I've met up here, I've only found two other people who've read the entire thing...and one of them is my professor...If I ever get back to writing creatively, I know what I'm going to choose as my initial model to develop my own style from...)
Got offered a bid for an internship as an assistant editor at a local press today. It's not a sure thing, but I was told that the press approached the department head, asked for two candidates, and that I'm one of them. Unfortunately, it doesn't pay jack. Not enough, as my adviser said, to pay the rent, but maybe enough to buy me lunch (or get me drunk, a little voice in my head whispered). I must say, even though it means juggling two jobs next semester, I'm definitely quite excited and anxious to get through the coming interview. I haven't had a job interview in over three years, I think. Hell, I didn't get interviewed for this teaching gig...
My words feel so sloppy this evening. I spent all afternoon working on a presentation for one seminar that I have tomorrow and reading up for another. I also graded some papers. Not including travel time, unless I read on the train, I think I'm averaging 9-10 hours of work a day. Wait, I already thought about my workload. I can't remember anything anymore unless its related to my graduate seminars. This journal, this place to share my thoughts with...well, myself mostly (its public out of sheer coincidence)...I can't remember any of it. But that's why I type, so that I can browse through it later. Which I actually do from time to time, especially when I'm trolling for ideas to jot down in my little notebook. So full of ideas; maybe they'll be constructed into something over the summer. Everything is an idea anymore. I can't shut this shit off, can't help but thinking about recursion and mass media and Arabs and imperialism and (god help me) Renaissance politics.
So far, I think they're coming along nicely. I've assembled a large pile of critical material for two of them and now I just need to begin weeding through them to find a way to narrow my initial questions about the texts I'm writing on. (And by the way, I can't believe that I finally made it completely through Dos Passos' U.S.A. I feel amazing, but also somewhat lost now. I spent the last two and a half months reading through its 1200 pages, getting lost in his mural of America, in the "voice of people" as he describes the cumulative effect of all the various tales in it. Of everyone that I've met up here, I've only found two other people who've read the entire thing...and one of them is my professor...If I ever get back to writing creatively, I know what I'm going to choose as my initial model to develop my own style from...)
Got offered a bid for an internship as an assistant editor at a local press today. It's not a sure thing, but I was told that the press approached the department head, asked for two candidates, and that I'm one of them. Unfortunately, it doesn't pay jack. Not enough, as my adviser said, to pay the rent, but maybe enough to buy me lunch (or get me drunk, a little voice in my head whispered). I must say, even though it means juggling two jobs next semester, I'm definitely quite excited and anxious to get through the coming interview. I haven't had a job interview in over three years, I think. Hell, I didn't get interviewed for this teaching gig...
My words feel so sloppy this evening. I spent all afternoon working on a presentation for one seminar that I have tomorrow and reading up for another. I also graded some papers. Not including travel time, unless I read on the train, I think I'm averaging 9-10 hours of work a day. Wait, I already thought about my workload. I can't remember anything anymore unless its related to my graduate seminars. This journal, this place to share my thoughts with...well, myself mostly (its public out of sheer coincidence)...I can't remember any of it. But that's why I type, so that I can browse through it later. Which I actually do from time to time, especially when I'm trolling for ideas to jot down in my little notebook. So full of ideas; maybe they'll be constructed into something over the summer. Everything is an idea anymore. I can't shut this shit off, can't help but thinking about recursion and mass media and Arabs and imperialism and (god help me) Renaissance politics.