I finally got an email back from the anthropology professor whose class I wanted to audit but couldn't (and let me just say, it's so WEIRD to me to have professors not respond to my emails immediately. Being at a small liberal arts college spoiled the fuck out of me...I start getting paranoid that profs hate me or else have decided to ignore me completely when I don't get a response within a day, which apparently is unheard of at larger universities), and it turns out that the class might be moved to a time that wouldn't conflict with my schedule. I can't even express how fucking amazing that would be (I am honestly more excited about this course than most of the courses I'm taking in my own department this semester), but I'm trying not to get my hopes too high in case it still doesn't work out.

In other news, the classes for the spring semester have come out...and once again, I am nerding out over the delicious, delicious possibilities. We're supposed to take only three courses for the semester, but there are four that I refuse to choose between, so I guess I'll just do the whole audit thing again. Right now (having only seen the course names and not the descriptions), I plan on taking the courses on 18th-century orientalism, critical race theory, and stigma (my first psychoanalytic theory class in grad school!) while auditing the course on Deleuze. I am seriously crossing my fingers that there won't be any amazing options in the anthropology department, because apparently we're only allowed one audit per semester (and I've already been warned by the upper-classmen that auditing is just stupid and will lead to the death of me/my social life). On the other hand, my undergraduate experience didn't exactly prepare me for a life of partying and funtimes, so worse comes to worse, I'll do my audit and try to see if the anthro profs will let me just sit in on the course.

Finally, I'd like to share a concert video that a friend of mine (T) sent me a while back. It's Chris Brown's "Take You Down," and it's one of those videos that I just can't make up my mind about. On the one hand, I'm terribly amused by the horrible pelvic thrusts and of course leerily appreciative of his (and his backup dancers) hot bodies (nevermind his age, lets just pretend that his being legal is all that matters). But on the other hand, I'm really disturbed by the fact that there are screaming 12 year old girls (and possibly boys!) in the audience watching this...but then, am I trying to limit childrens/teens sexuality? Am I naive to not realize that they're probably exposed to just as explicit (if not more) images in their day-to-day lives? Videos like this make me feel seriously old and un-hip (alright, and possibly like a pedophile for drooling over Chris Brown). Anyways, here's the link to the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLRE8z94VbU

Thoughts? Comments? Jokes about the dance moves?

ah whew

Got an email today from Professor E. He seemed totally fine, and in fact, invited me out to a meeting during happy hour. Sweet! Reading that helped me to resolve that I'm just going to keep being myself and let other people worry about kissing ass/getting onto good sides.

In other news, I've been really liking my two cohort-mates in the apartment complex. C and M are fabulous and sweet, and while they basically have mountains more knowledge about English than me, they are totally cool with explaining every tiny detail (and trust me, I ask what are probably incredibly stupid questions to English people...so guys, what's Romanticism? Graveyard school? Huh?) and have already told me that they're willing to help me out in any way possible. It feels good to be back in a supportive learning environment...I guess I had always expected that it would be this way, but hearing about other people's experiences on the undergrad/masters level made me really afraid that it wasn't going to happen here (I mean, for godssakes, one of the fourth years flat out told us not to tell our professors if we were predominately focused on teaching. Apparently my program is only interested in producing academic superstars, so if you -gasp- dare to admit your desire to be at a liberal arts college, they will "invest less in you.")

Regardless, classes start next Wednesday, with a day-long orientation on Tuesday. I've been busy getting my student ID, opening a bank account, and rushing about trying to get my immunizations/health records straight (apparently I'm missing a tetanus requirement...I guess my old school didn't require one/didn't worry about me stepping on rusty nails and dying).

In the relationship/hookup area: B (yes, the infamous booty texter) called me last night and we ended up talking til four in the morning. I still have no interest whatsoever in actually dating him, but it's nice to chat about poetry and life with someone who's also trying to get settled in to post-college life. Also, in more actually meaningful to me news, the person that I care most about (guy I was with for two and a half years), N, is going to China this Friday. He'll be there for a year doing a program through JHU, and I can't even process right now what it means for me to not really be able to see or contact him (well, alright, lets be honest, I bought a calling card) on a regular basis.

It's funny how summer has been so relaxed for me (minus the whole ridiculous drama with the girl), but now, things are picking up and it'll be time again for me to go back to the only thing I really know. Can I also point out how really damned depressing it is for me to write (and have it be true) that the only thing that I really know is motherfucking school!

error! error!

School has not yet started (and in fact is a week away), but I have somehow already managed to commit a faux pas of potentially massive proportions.

To rewind: I had dinner tonight at a cute Korean restaurant with two people in my cohort, two fourth-year students, and an MA candidate. The conversation turned to politics in academic departments/the professors in our program, and in the course of the ensuing discussion, my advisor's name was brought up. Now this man, Professor E, is one of my academic idols. Not only was my personal statement basically an ode to his work, but my specific research interests are completely influenced by his scholarship. In other words, I need to get on his good side and camp out/build a three-story house there, because I will undoubtedly take all of his classes and fully intend on asking him to be my dissertation advisor.

The problem: according to W, one of the fourth-years who is also working with him, Professor E is a "diva" who needs to be massaged (his words, not mine!) more than the other faculty members. To get on his good side, one should constantly bring up topics he's interested in (and let him go on and on about them), and above all, always be respectful/show proper awe of his genius. Key words there: "respectful" and "proper awe."

Now anyone who knows me will know that I have a problem writing emails to professors. For some reason, I don't censor my words whatsoever and the resulting missives look like chummy (read: wildly inappropriate) correspondences that I would send to my closest friends. From admitting that I was cutting a professor's class because I had pulled an all-nighter to write his paper (which, to my defense, I attached in the email) to laying out my relationship drama in another TMI moment, I have basically written an unfortunate number of hilarious, but far from respectful, emails. (For some reason, this never came back to bite me during college, but I suspect that the small liberal arts college environment meant that all of my professors were incredibly friendly/down-to-earth, and oftentimes treated the students like colleagues).

Anyways, halfway through the conversation at dinner, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I had sent Professor E an email about two days ago regarding a meeting that we were supposed to have during the first week of classes. While I didn't remember exactly what I had said, I knew that it was written in classic "me" fashion, and when I came home and checked the actual text, my worst fears were confirmed. Not only did I apologize for the "somewhat lateness" of the email, but I had blamed this tardiness on "summer senility" and then signed the correspondence with "hope your summer went swimmingly."

Somehow, I don't think that is going to be taken as a sign of respect/proper awe of genius, and as someone who is probably not used to student email-writing styles like mine, I'm not sure how Professor E will take it. In any case, I am terrified that he thinks that I'm disrespectful or else am blowing him off with attitude, and has formed some kind of horrible impression of what type of person/student I am. Oh why did I let our hour-long conversation about trashy reality shows (during the admitted students dinner) lull me into a false sense of security? New end-of-the-summer resolution: learn to write proper, respectful emails ASAP!

on sex, awkwardness, and things that are simultaneously funny and personally mortifying

While I've never been one to be shy of the college, and now "real world," hookup culture (and at one point this summer was casually seeing three people at the same time...oh the life of a young city dweller!), there has been a certain, supposedly common experience that managed to elude me: the booty call. Yes, that wonderfully brazen, often drunken, propositioning of an individual that you are not interested in knowing beyond the biblical sense of the word.

Well, that tender innocence of mine (hah!) is tragically no more. Last night, around 2 in the morning, I was awakened by a text. To be more specific: a booty call text (or should it just be called a booty text?) from a guy that I dated earlier in the summer but was no longer really seeing (it was one of those unfortunate end of the college year hookups that bleeds into the first parts of summer. Plus we had made it exclusive, which was just stupid given the context, but that's another story).

Anyways, after trying to determine if I should allow my slight sense of horror (I mean, really, he couldn't call? He had to freaking text?!) to outweigh my total amusement over what was happening, I decided to just let myself be charmed by the absurdity of the situation (I mean, my first booty call! What a milestone!) and let him come over.

Of course, this whole business was made all the more special by the fact that he didn't leave afterward, but instead, came with me the next morning to the farmer's market/lunch outing that I had set up with one of the girls in my program, C. Now normally this wouldn't necessarily be awkward or embarrassing, except that I had helped C move into her apartment the previous night (she's in the same complex as me) and hung out with her until midnight, when we went back to our rooms to "sleep." Though I was clearly alone when she last saw me (and when I told her that I was tired and going to bed), I somehow had a guy in my apartment by the time she came back in the morning (and given his rather disheveled look and the fact that I hadn't mentioned him when we initially made plans, I doubt that she thought he had just dropped by for the trip). In other words, I am totally making the most awesome and professional first impression on my cohort-mate/person I'm spending the next six years with.

In the end, though, the way that I figure it is that at least I've gotten a funny story out of my first booty call (which was, of course, undoubtedly made all the more booty by the fact that it wasn't even a call, but rather, a text). Who knows, maybe someday I'll stop being able to joke about the ridiculous/embarrassing moments that constitute my life (or maybe I'll develop enough tact or fear of social disapproval that I won't regale these stories quite so publicly). But for now, I'm damned glad that I don't (and don't have to) give a shit about what others think of me or my choices. It feels good to be able to just laugh at myself and look forward to whatever other ridiculousity that may/will be coming my way.

books, mates, and pests

The great thing about having friends with excellent reading tastes is that you inevitably get introduced to new works of literature (or, in my case, hover above their bookshelves and surreptitiously steal their favorites when they're not looking). Most recently, having crashed with my friend R twice in the past four days (once for a potluck, once for a charming -albeit ultimately boring- silent film in the park near her house), I have had the extreme pleasure of reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth and Rabih Alameddine's The Hakawati. I would recommend both without hesitation--Unaccustomed Earth is, as Lahiri's writing always is, understated but powerfully moving, while The Hakawati had me laughing out loud with its wry, witty humor. (Also: did I just do one of those vague, adjective-driven book reviews that really tells you nothing about the book? Yes. Gross. Please forgive me now.)

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).

Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!

Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!

oh fail

Came home last night to find a big fat mouse slinking across my stove top.

This in addition to the two massive cockroaches I've killed and the one that scurried to safety underneath my bookshelf.

Today (aka Day 1 of Operation Extermination): dispersed Raid roach killer tablet things (I'm assuming there's boric acid in there) and mousetraps. Was slightly bitter about having to bait the traps with JIF extra-crunchy peanut butter. What a waste of my favorite snack.

one month later

And hopefully this time I'll stick around. I've been busy with life in general: going out to bars and clubs and dance parties (and throwing a few myself), attending amazing performances (such as one last week exploring the relationships between food, personal identity, and power/politics), and getting myself into (and out of, thankfully!) some sticky situations with relationships (lesson of the summer: extreme attractiveness does not surmount personal issues/craziness. Really. It's not a fair tradeoff at all, and one should not be tempted by one's lust/poor decision making abilities/inability to draw boundaries slash say no to justify such a tradeoff. It's bad news, kids).

After a weeklong visit from my friend T and the accompanying flurry of events and meet-ups with other friends in the area, I'm now happy to say that I am settled in my apartment and ready to return to my hermit-y (and academically productive!) ways. On the list: get through my readings for one of my classes (and write summaries for each of the readings, yes I've decided to be ridiculously anal like that) and continue making time for my "just for fun/personal interests" books. I'm currently working my way through The Erotic Margin: Sexuality and Spatiality in Alteritist Discourse, which explores the ways in which space is transformed (socially produced and reproduced) into place through particular discourses, or more specifically, the ways in which the "East" or "Orient" is constructed through discourses of gender and sexuality. I'm only on the second chapter, but I find the book incredibly interesting and relatively not dense (all things considering) and would definitely recommend it to anyone with the time and/or interest.

In other news, I've been pretty productive (in an unproductive way) today, and so far, I've managed to:
1) Request to be added to the mailing lists of the postcolonial lit and gender/sexuality reading groups of my program

2) Ask for the syllabus of this amaaazing graduate anthropology course that explores agency, temporality, and sovereignty in relation to travel and migration (and which I can't audit because I have another class at the same time, TEARS)

3) Request an audit in another course which is supposed to be a critical examination of contemporary theories in cultural and social anthropology

4) Make a (required) appointment with my department chair during the first two weeks of classes (which start in early September, EEK!)

...

Ok, so maybe all of those things took about 30 minutes to accomplish (minus the researching of graduate anthropology courses, aka me poring over course descriptions and drooling like an extremely dorky kid in an extremely dorky candy store). And possibly came after about 3-4 hours of watching Olympics highlights/reruns online (what can I say, I like gymnastics and diving!)

Alright, no more procrastination from me. Off to the summary writing and reading!