Bethalou

I’m sitting here writing this post while my sister and two of my cousins are sound asleep in my tiny bedroom. One in the bed, two on the floor. They seem to be sleeping pretty well. The ark is good to them. That’s what my bedroom is called, and not just by me, thank you very much. The roof is all wooden and curvy like a boat. I can hear the rain on the roof. Thus: the ark.

Oh, they’re awake now. My clackity clacking was too loud apparantly. Oops.

We’re going to do all sorts of fun Duluthy things today.

Oh yeah, I had a wonderful birthday, even though it snowed. Yay! More later, perhaps.

Bear with me on this one?

Writing academic arguments about stuff you don’t give a flying fart about is like trying to vomit when you have nothing left in your stomach. The feelings are actually very very similar. Why do teachers require twenty pages? Why twenty? Why not 26? Why not 16? Or, for that matter, why not ask your students, especially your grad students, to be grown ups and just write an argument? I guarantee you that you would get better, more interesting, passionate AND informed papers out of them.

And for the record, if I ever met Jane Eyre or Edward Fairfax Rochester, I would hit her, or him, in the face with a cast iron frying pan. “Reader, I whalloped him.”

I don’t sit still very often. That’s not to say that I’m a very productive person (ha); I only mean that I tend to fiddle about when I’m doing stuff. I tear napkins and straw wrappers at restaurants when I’m waiting to order. I twirl pens and fix my ponytail and adjust my clothes all the time. I’m thinking of things to type right now and my fingers just tap away at the keys without punching them down. I wonder why that’s the case. Got nothing insightful to say about that, it’s just something I noticed.

It’s been an odd week. One of those pre-apacolypse weeks where you spend all your energy denying that you’ll be incredibly busy the next week. So you procrasinate. Next week I’m teaching a section of American Lit. The prof heard that I did a paper on Frost and asked if I wanted to teach. Yes, I do! I suppose this is the thing I’m most concerned about; everything else next week is fairly doable. Grading. Presenting in class. Research. Grading.

Tonight I’m going to see The Full Monty at the Duluth Playhouse. I heard some older ladies talking about how there’s going to be full nudity. They said the actors are going to be backlit so the audience can’t really see them. They also said they were bringing sunglasses.

Easter is in a week! I’m going to spend the whole day drinking Pepsi. We’re all going to Opa and Oma’s for The Great Gathering. There will be ice cream. There will be cheesy potatoes. There will be candy!

I just finished reading Miguel de Unamuno’s “Manuel Bueno, Martyr” and I’d highly recommend it. Just so you know.

I was googlin yesterday and learned that Nikos Kazantzakis lost the Nobel Prize in Literature to Albert Camus by ONE vote. And Camus was all “Nikos, you are so wonderful; you deserve this a hundred times more than me!” And Nikos wasall “Albert. Thanks!” and then all “I hope for nothing, I fear nothing, I am free.”

The reason I’ve never been able to properly fry an egg before now is because I wasn’t using butter.

Students will only love you a little, no matter what you do.

Cookies win the world.

Buses leave on time, even if you don’t.

There’s ice on the sidewalk.

Dell computers are good at breaking falls. Go Dell.

My ceiling is too low to allow tiny dance parties.

If there were a zombie outbreak in Duluth that originated at the bottom of the hill, we would be safe at the top of the hill, because

Zombies have small lung capacities. Thanks Josh.

Flatulence is the 8th Deadly Sin.

I have to go write my obituary now.

Herroh…

This weekend has been fantastic. My roomate is gone, and she took the Friggin Cat with her. Which means that I can cook without getting a queasy stomach thinking about all the cat hair I’m probably swallowing. Which means that I can prop my bedroom door open and exchange what was probably September air for Today’s air. Which means that I can sit at my table and grade while listening to Car Talk.

I love those Car Talk guys. I’m sending in the answer to this week’s Puzzler. I hope I win. If I win, I get a free pair of hockey skates. Aaaawesome.

So I went to that conference, and it was hectic. The drive was very long and stressful, and I got lost in Madison. But the presentation went well. I learned a lot and got good ideas and met some cool dudes.

I came home from the conference, and spent the week, and especially this weekend, catching up. Oh, it feels so good to be productive. It feels especially good to be productive and alone. Can’t wait to have my very own apartment.

Next week: Spring Break!

My paper got accepted to a conference! A real one, with nerds and coffee and everything. It’s at the U of Wisconsin-Madison (I know, exotic) and it’s called “Liminal Literature: Borders and Genre” (I know, what?). It will be delightful! I’m excited to hear what people are going to present, especially because the conference claims to promote interdisciplinary study and the keynote speaker is a philosophy dude. Hooray!!

Now, to get funding…

Oh, and ps. My paper is called “Swinger of “Birches”: Frost, Henri Bergson, and the Vital Impulse”.

I’m one of Them now. Nerds!

I just got my RSVP to my cousin’s wedding (which one? just…one of them) and it says “Miss Beth and Guest.” Does anyone want to be my guest?

Seriously, I can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than bringing a stranger into this ginormous german gathering. I love my family, I really do. They’re funny and kind, and they dance like shy David Byrnes. But a stranger just wouldn’t get them. They’re ungettable.

Weddings are super awkward. Want to come?

The semester ended fairly gracelessly, but it ended and the results were worth it. I got my papers done and my students’ papers and exams graded. And then Christmas came and went and now I’m eating and relaxing, taking both activities very seriously. I can sense my brain shutting down like a computer: “Goodbye. Ding!” Occasionally I poke away at Latin. However, take today. Today my biggest decision was whether to part my hair a little farther to the right than usual.I love break. I love the holidays. That is all.