Bright Side of Recession
Gasoline here has been at $1.95 for the past week. I hear oil prices dropped again, so it should be lower tomorrow. When you live in South Dakota and have a 20-minute commute, this is beautiful.
I bought a pretty new coat and a pretty new scarf and pretty new mittens. The mittens unfold to reveal fingerless gloves underneath for iPod touch purposes. I got a pretty new iPod touch for $180 a couple of months ago. I also have pretty new boots that immediately necessitated not-so-pretty foam insert things so my feet won't die. They work wonderfully for snow, but stilettos are not so great for ice.
Sorry for writing like a vegetable--it's that whole six classes thing. I'm doing well in all of them, but I speak in tongues quite often now when I'm not curled into a fetal position in the corner of the student union. I've reached that point where I've stopped caring and devote all my spare time to Facebook and StumbleUpon rather than doing homework.
That said, though, I got a seriously great two-page critique from my sparing-with-praise creative writing prof for the nonfiction essay I turned in last week. I have to turn in fiction this week, which is not treating me well.
Tomorrow I'm pretty excited about getting to explain to my Modernism professor that the problem with Hemingway is that he consistently depicts all women as superficial harpies hellbent on emasculating their mates and men as self-pitying jerks totally incapable of maintaining meaningful relationships and unable to interact even casually without alcohol. It's ridiculous; I'm 120 pages into The Sun Also Rises and the alcoholic beverage count has to be around fifty. I think I'll go back and count like the time I underlined all the italicized words in The Catcher in the Rye. I forget how many there were, but I'll let you know if I find my copy and can actually bring myself to open it.
I would recommend Mrs Dalloway, though. I was very skeptical, having dragged myself through To the Lighthouse two years ago, and I was surprised to a) like it, and b) find it quite powerful. I'm hoping my Mod prof asks me to reconcile my Hemingway attitudes to my enthusiasm for Woolf, which will be something like "Virgina Woolf depicts people as essentially good but deeply flawed, but Hemingway is violently negative and clearly considers humanity inherently bad with fleeting moments of decency."
When I am overwhelmed, I think out all the pseudo-intellectual things I will say in my classes to appear competent. But hooray for cheap gas and new stuff!
I bought a pretty new coat and a pretty new scarf and pretty new mittens. The mittens unfold to reveal fingerless gloves underneath for iPod touch purposes. I got a pretty new iPod touch for $180 a couple of months ago. I also have pretty new boots that immediately necessitated not-so-pretty foam insert things so my feet won't die. They work wonderfully for snow, but stilettos are not so great for ice.
Sorry for writing like a vegetable--it's that whole six classes thing. I'm doing well in all of them, but I speak in tongues quite often now when I'm not curled into a fetal position in the corner of the student union. I've reached that point where I've stopped caring and devote all my spare time to Facebook and StumbleUpon rather than doing homework.
That said, though, I got a seriously great two-page critique from my sparing-with-praise creative writing prof for the nonfiction essay I turned in last week. I have to turn in fiction this week, which is not treating me well.
Tomorrow I'm pretty excited about getting to explain to my Modernism professor that the problem with Hemingway is that he consistently depicts all women as superficial harpies hellbent on emasculating their mates and men as self-pitying jerks totally incapable of maintaining meaningful relationships and unable to interact even casually without alcohol. It's ridiculous; I'm 120 pages into The Sun Also Rises and the alcoholic beverage count has to be around fifty. I think I'll go back and count like the time I underlined all the italicized words in The Catcher in the Rye. I forget how many there were, but I'll let you know if I find my copy and can actually bring myself to open it.
I would recommend Mrs Dalloway, though. I was very skeptical, having dragged myself through To the Lighthouse two years ago, and I was surprised to a) like it, and b) find it quite powerful. I'm hoping my Mod prof asks me to reconcile my Hemingway attitudes to my enthusiasm for Woolf, which will be something like "Virgina Woolf depicts people as essentially good but deeply flawed, but Hemingway is violently negative and clearly considers humanity inherently bad with fleeting moments of decency."
When I am overwhelmed, I think out all the pseudo-intellectual things I will say in my classes to appear competent. But hooray for cheap gas and new stuff!
posted by Allison at
12:57 AM
1 Comments:
My one and only experience with a true college literature class was British Modernism (there was a couple for my AA degree, but I don't think they counted). It was a horrible, horrible experience for a political science major incapable of getting that part of her brain to function sufficiently.
So I think to receive high praise for anything from a professor is laudable, but for it to be in that particular realm...
In the sage words of Wayne and Garth: We're not worthy!
Congrats!
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