procrastination, procrastination, procrastination

You know, when you put off updating a blog for a damned long time (in this case, about a month, and that month being the first month of the first semester of your first year), you get into this vicious cycle of constant delay because you figure, hell, what's one more delayed rant about a mini crisis in the whole long scheme of things. Well, I'm trying to break out of that cycle and start updating more regularly, so here goes a quick recap of whats been going on with me/revelations from the past few weeks:

-Whoever told me my rigorous undergrad education would make grad school seem like a breeze LIED. All I do is work, watch trashy tv to let my brain rest, and bitch about all the fun I'm missing out on. 9-5? Yeah, I WISH.

-Sometimes I feel like I'm in the wrong program. I don't speak at all in my English classes, but for some reason, have no problem talking all the damned time in my Anthro classes. Hrm. Part of this is my total lack of understanding of the English lens, but I think the other part is that I just don't really care about aesthetics/aesthetic concerns. There, I said it.

-I have officially humiliated myself by crying in the office of one of my academic idols. This was prompted by her question "So why are you in an English program," which led to panic and tears and me interpreting that question to be rhetorical and a blinding insight into my total lack of suitability for the study of literature. Which it wasn't and she totally didn't mean. But, you know, it kind of sucked at the time.

-Readings for my classes seem to follow a consistent theme. It's almost as if my profs are deciding on their syllabi together...Week 1 was Marx/Hegel/Kant, Week 2 was Freud/Lacan, and Week 3 was Derrida (aka the week I tried unsuccessfully to throw myself out the window of my basement apartment)

-I, uh, am apparently the representative for the first years in our grad school version of student government. This is what happens when you are one of only two years who show up to a meeting (BECAUSE YOU ARE ENTICED BY THE PIZZA. Kids, let this be a lesson to you! Gluttony is bad!)

-Am thinking about starting a radical pedagogy reading group. Though how I'm going to manage to do even MORE reading on top of the five classes I have, the two reading groups I'm already part of, and the reading group my adviser wants me to start (tracing the work of some theorist, his suggestion is "Judy" Butler HA), I have no idea. I'm starting to think I'm just asking for more trouble.

-My life outside of grad school is zero. Ergo my personal life is zero. The two options I was half-heartedly pursuing didn't work out (ok, so maybe one is still working out, but I don't want it to because frankly, while this girl is quite attractive, I am terribly bored by her), and honestly, I'm starting to think I'm not capable of being actually interested in anyone right now. That said, I'm meeting some fabulous friends outside of my program, including M in the history program and R in communications. Hurrah qpoc!

-I'm thinking about writing my final paper for one of these classes on the MTV show From G's to Gents. Oh yes, I am totally becoming a Serious Academic (but seriously...constructions of black masculinity? Male fraternity/homoeroticism? Issues of intention/reception/audience? It's a goldmine!)

-Speaking of which: I AM GOING TO AN ACADEMIC TALK ON R. KELLY AND TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET THIS WEEK. (Highlight of my day/week/month? Undoubtedly!)

-Ok, and I also recently attended a talk given by David Scott, who had this amazing discussion on the generational differences in experiences of temporality in Granada. I put this in not only because it was a really thought-provoking paper, but also to make it seem like I actually do attend legit academic functions (HA).

I can't really think of any more things that have happened offhand, but I think those points kind of cover the major things that have been going on with me. While I have been angsting about/questioning my preparedness, intelligence, and suitability (a lot, a lot), I figure we all have to start from somewhere, and I might as well use my panic to move forward and work hard(er).

That said, expect a frazzled, panicky, self-doubting post sometime in the near future. What good's a blog if I can't rant and bitch and totally freak out, right?

Apologies for the long delay! Grad school is in full swing, and I'm definitely getting my ass kicked. Between the readings (I'd say around 300-400 pages a week per class, keeping in mind I'm taking four classes and auditing one), talks, random reading groups/events (just got elected as a representative for the first years in the graduate group), and so on, its been one hectic ride...but I will be updating soon!

umm

So I went to a grad students party last night that was thrown by (and comprised of predominately) Comparative Literature people, and I have to say, I was seriously, seriously underwhelmed. C warned me beforehand that a lot of grad parties are like clique-y networking events, and furthermore, every Comp Lit party she'd ever been to was "filled with people talking loudly in various different languages just to show that they can."

She was basically right. While I can't (and wouldn't want to) say that I didn't like the people that I did meet (ok, minus this really creepy German lit guy who hit on me in the most awkward way possible...I think he thought that telling me the Greek or Roman or whatever meaning of his name was supposed to impress me or something), it was really hard to interact with people that I didn't already know beforehand.

On the upside, I met another girl who's in my cohort, and she seems pretty fabulous. She's 30 (!!!), but looks 24 (double !!!!), and has been teaching in LA for the past few years.

All in all, I guess I'm glad that my first experience with a grad party was so lame because it can only go up from there, right? Lets hope, because my orientation is tomorrow, and there is plenty of food, alcohol, and schmoozing that's scheduled throughout the day and night.

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.