Here we go.

The frantic nights have set in. I have transformed from a mild-mannered bookish girl into a neurotic demon with glowing eyes and wild hair. Compelled to finish all work, every night, write brilliant papers, and dream up engaging lesson plans, I will wander the streets at 3 am with an empty mug in my hand, sniffing out feral tea bags. I will become a creature of the night, flitting to and from my office in the silent hours before dawn, and returning under cover of darkness. Children will cry at my arrival, grown men will shudder, and my students will become increasingly impatient with the degrading quality of my jokes. This morning I found myself eating a couple pieces of bread for breakfast, and reusing the same tea bag to make three cups worth, because I don't get paid until tomorrow and we're low on both tea and food. Grad school is so glamorous.

Handy

If anyone out there is learning to knit, this site is great. Not a large, but a very practical selection of knitting moves and stitches illustrated in animated (gif) format. http://www.dnt-inc.com/barhtmls/knittech.html

An update of some optimism

Everything I've posted has been rather depressing lately, so I want to assure everyone that things are FINE and going WELL in Ohioland. We had Bessie, Van of Love, repaired. The side window is now tinted a little darker than the rest, but at this point I don't really care about the cosmetics. I like to pretend she now has a rakish eyepatch. My students this quarter are sharp as little sharp things, for the most part. I've just graded their first assignment and the lowest grade I gave out was a C+, which is a bit unusual for me (although I've never failed anyone). Their rough drafts of the second paper look promising, too. It seems like they actually understand the readings and what I'm teaching. I don't mean to sound disparaging about our nation's youth, but the course is difficult and it usually takes students more effort and time to really grasp what we're (I'm) trying to do with their writing. All in all, this just makes my life easier, which is a great and wonderful thing. I spent last night working on the 'ol PhD application writing sample. Let me preface any mention of this by saying that it was a horrible paper when I turned it in for a class last year. I was finally being treated for my anxiety at the time, and between the medication and the anxiety itself, the Spring quarter was a very odd one all around. I'm amazed that I turned out such an awful paper, and horrified that my brilliant professor had to read it. Anyway, I finally just buried myself in it last night and Got Things Done. I even made little check marks in green pen beside my professor's comments on the paper, to give myself that smug feeling of making progress. I translated a homily passage that I've been meaning to do all summer and corrected lots of silly grammatical errors that shouldn't have been there in the first place. I came no where near finishing, but with one more night's work, I think it will be in good enough shape to hand back over to professors for more revising. Also: I saw ducks yesterday. quackquackwaddle

In the midst of all the gloom and anxiety here at Casa Specs, I wanted to share the first thing that has made me smile in days. A poem from the always lovely Mr Sheep. First chill of winter I put on my orange hat And think of you. He is the recipient of one of the many spacehopper hats I've sent over the Atlantic, and has made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Cheers!* *"Thank you," in American.

I spoke too soon

We got our number three this morning. The van (with a trashbag taped over the missing window) was towed. Curses.

Always in threes?

And we've got two right now. We had to fix the brakes on the minivan (named Bessie) last week, which came to a staggering $750. Luckily, The Boyfriend has a credit card and was able to pay for it this way, while I can pay him back when I finally get paid later this month. Today, I arrived home to an eerily silent apartment. When I'd set my bag down, he put his arms around me and told me he'd broken a window in the van. The result: somewhere between $300-525 to get it fixed and insurance won't cover it. I'm more upset about the money than anything else. I'm a little saddned that something happened to my Bessie (I'm very attached to this van, the sweet old gal), but boy are we going to be short on money for a while. Looks like we'll be eating pasta and eggs a lot next month. A third bad thing hasn't happened yet, but when it does I'll be ready. I'm thinking of just staying home, barricading myself in a fort made of couch cushions, armed with a frying pan and my wits. Actually, strike that; armed with a frying pan and a taser. In an effort to say something positive, I'll report on my medical condition. My doctor thinks that my fluttery heartbeat and shortness of breath are results of my high blood pressure. Once I get back on the medication, these symptoms should go away and I can stop worrying that I'm going to have a heart attack before 30. I've been walking around all evening (when The Boyfriend's not in earshot) muttering "it will be ok" to myself repeatedly. I'm off to do this some more.

where can you see lions?

Well, not in Ohio. But you can see zebras, giraffes, and rhinos. The Boyfriend and I went to The Wilds today. The website isn't very good, but the park was. Click here for photos of wind, beasts, and trees.

Tales from the Dark Side

This is an email my mother sent me about some poor speller in her 6th grade (10-12 year olds) English class. "[I] assigned a paragraph description of what you are wearing and why you chose that outfit. One dear lad described his jeans and then said he was wearing a red shit. It was a long-sleeved shit because it was a little chilly this morning, and if it was supposed to be warm he would have worn his short sleeved shit, and if he thought it was going to be cold he also would wear an undershit." I hope she doesn't mind if I share it, but I was just tickled at the possibilities. Could he have a sleepshit? A good church shit? A comfy old shit he's had for years? The degree to which I'm finding this hilarious is surely a sign of my early-onset senility.

The good, the bad, and the awkward.

The good: I have narrowed (or expanded, depending on when you talked to me last) my PhD list. The likely schools are now: University of Wisconsin (Madison), Massachusetts Amherst, University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign), Univ. of Illinois (Chicago), University of Washington (Seattle), Arizona State (Tempe), and St. Louis University (Missouri). Talking to the senior Anglo-Saxonist today was a very heartening experience. He seems to like me and think that I'll do well as a scholar, despite never having had me as a student or seen my writing. He also mentioned that he's hoping I'll stay at OSU for my doctorate, which made me go all fuzzy in side. The bad: TEACHING. God. I'm just not good at it. The end. The awkward: speaking in class. I just always say things wrong and make myself look like an ass. I'm so very jealous of those people who left their awkward phases behind with puberty. I'm the new-born foal of the classroom.

A representation of my life, in the form of a song from The Music Man: Read-a-little, knit-a-little, Read-a-little, knit-a-little, Read read read! Read-a-lot, knit a little more. Other possible verses could be: Write a little, drink a little; Sleep a little, cook a little; or even: work a little, age a little. Thank you.

Bring on the scarves!

Well, the temperature took a 20 degree dive on Thursday night, the end result of which was my digging out my bag 'o scarves that's been hiding in our closet. I blame the yarn shops for my scarf, hat, and mitten collection, really. I keep buying just one or two balls of tempting yarn thinking "oh, I'll do something with them," and that something is always winter accessories. And now I'm adding to the hoard with a hat for The Boyfriend in a very soft Wool-Ease grey. cfb I know this yarn isn't a favorite with "purists," but I love the fact that it feels nice AND I can just chuck it in the wash. In addition to blaming yarn shops, I also blame the weather for my reading lots of knitting blogs lately. Most notably: Yarnstorm, Knitty Blog, and Two Pointy Sticks which has expensive but gorgeous hand-painted yarn. Things like this make me want to spend the day knitting rather than reading Byron or working on my writing sample. PhD application time approaches quickly! cfb

yawn

I think I sleep too much. Last night, for example, I took a nap when I got home from about 6:30-8:00 pm, and then fell asleep while reading Byron at around 11. I then went to bed at 12 and read Moby Dick there until I fell asleep around 1:00. Suggestions for not being tired all the time on a postcard, please.

And we're off

The Fall quarter has begun in earnest now (my school runs on 10-week long quarters rather than 14-week semesters), and I'm already feeling buried under all of my reading. I'm taking an American literature course that has a very ambitious syllabus -- the first 41 chapters of Moby Dick by Tuesday, for example. My other course isn't any lighter, as it includes assignments like "read Shelley's Prometheus Unbound for Tuesday. Then disregard all of your hard work and read Don Juan for Thursday." If I didn't love books with an unhealthy passion, I'd have an aneurysm just thinking about this. My students (much unlike me right now) seem capable, bright, and on the whole willing to participate in the ridiculous discussions about writing that I make them have. I've got the requisite smart-ass boy in the back of the room, and at least one girl who is always doing something other than what she's supposed to be doing. For example, perusing a campus map when I'm talking about how to get an A on the next assignment. Finding the library would help, but I doubt that's what she was looking for. I'm expecting this to be the best class I've taught yet (my 4th), mostly because I'm actually interested in what I'm teaching now that I've broken away from the analyzing-American-culture syllabus. I'm also beginning (far too late, as usual) to look at PhD programs. As an Anglo-Saxonist and an eco-critic, I'm rather limited in my choices of scholars to work with. I only know of one big-name scholar working in exactly my field, and he's at UC Berkeley. Don't worry -- I think it's hilarious, too. I'm applying anyway though; just on the off chance that they let a charity case in every year. It's rather daunting looking through all of the programs and their requirements, and also trying to figure out whom to ask for recommendation letters. I've only known the professors here for a year, and we didn't have a senior Anglo-Saxonist this past year either. So I won't have a recommendation from someone in my field who's established in the profession, which might hurt me a bit. I'm also worried about my behavior over the last 12 months, before I was diagnosed with a pretty nasty anxiety disorder. I've since become medicated and able to function (if not normally, at least functioning is an improvement), but I doubt that anyone will be able to write me glowing letters that mention my confidence, brilliance, and prowess as a researcher. But I'm trying not to worry. Trying so very hard. And baking cookies while I stomp through Moby Dick.