Wednesday, December 11, 2002
 

Because I'm too tired to think at the moment, TWO postings today! Aren't you all special?

I'm proud of myself. I successfully didn't do my work for Southern lit today, and I didn't spazz out, cry, or have a breakdown. For me, that's an accomplishment. Given that our final paper is due Friday (though I talked to him after class, and he says as late as Monday is ok), and that's 85% of our final grade, I felt that working on it might be more important than 800 pages of Wright, 316 pages of Fanon (had read that before, anyway), various Said, and some Bhabha. Fanon is in my paper; I thought that should count for something.

At the dinner last night, we were discussing the popular perceptions of grad school. We noted that everyone thinks of law school and medical school as hard (which I'm certainly not contesting), but no one really seems to think that way about grad school. We concluded that this is due to the lack of grad school portrayals in the popular media. No one realizes what it's all about, and no one realizes that we can be sexy and exciting, too! [peanut gallery may stick it were the sun doesn't shine] We tried to come up with some plot outlines but quickly ran into a problem: there can't be any dialogue, since all we do is sit at home, by ourselves, and read all day. I yell at theorists from time to time, and one person said she tells the dog not to chew on the furniture before she goes anywhere, but that seemed to about cover it. Possible episode topics include: writing a paper and not having time to eat meals, and thus eating peanut butter out of a jar with a fork; brushing teeth to break up the tedium; opening the apartment door and realizing that it has three days' worth of fliers stuck in it; crying hysterically for no fun and no profit. Those do not all refer to me, so there.

Amusing related story: When class began at 3:30 Monday, someone asked a [name withheld to protect remaining shreds of dignity] fellow student how she was doing. She made a weird croaking noise in reply. It transpired that she had not yet spoken aloud all day, since she'd been sitting at home and reading, and her voice was actually rusty.

Another amusing grad life observation, since I'm on a roll here: I've never, never been in a place where people, of all genders, are so open about how much time they spend crying. It's like one big group hug waiting to happen.

Also, it's good to know that it's not considered abnormal to skip the showers and freshen oneself with Febreze. Not that I'd ever do that, of course.

I need to take out the trash, myself. The kitchen trash has been full for several days now, and I'm just piling stuff up on the cabinets, the stove, the sink edge, etc. Gotta put that on the docket, one of these days.

I'm wiped. I can't look at my paper. My body hurts. I'm exhausted all the time, but I can't sleep, and I've even been trying to drug myself out (albeit with Tylenol PM and Benadryl; we're not talking heavy stuff here). I lie in bed and twitch. And fret.

"Fret" is my word of the week. This is inspired by yet another grad student (who said, memorably, on Monday: "Don't you love it when you leave your apartment and notice that the doorknob is dusty?"). When the 19th cen prof asked us how our Thanksgiving breaks went, she looked distressed. He asked if she'd relaxed, and she said no. He asked if she'd gotten a lot of work done, she said no. He said it had to be one or the other, so what did she do during the break? She responded: "Fret." It's the story of my life. In the words of Kim Richey: "I shouldn't be spinning my wheels / Just to see how bad it feels / Just to see how far I won't go." Yeah, that was deep.

I should go immerse myself in back issues of Yale French Studies now. Par-tay. I would enjoy this, if I had any energy left. You should have seen how excited I was when I realized I could have full access to it here (had to depend on ILLs in undergrad). Energy has bitten the dust in the meantime. They should give us this last week off from classes and let us spend it writing papers, but that's another rant.

Oh, listen. The undergrad sorority chick across the hall just left her apartment. It's 9:34 PM. Probably something social. Me, I'm in my pajamas, hanging out with Fredric Jameson and my peanut butter jar.

I think that's enough disgrace for one day. I'll be signing off now.

Elvisette philosophized at 10:29 PM