Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
erring on the side of grievance
Too clever? I can always subtitle this post "On Annoyance."
1. Why does the thesis format have to be so ugly? Can't I employ my skills typesetting to make it look pretty and readable? Thus masking all its flaws? Instead it's a double-spaced Times New Roman nightmare, complete with chapter titles in ALL CAPS. Ick ick ick.
2. After hauling a box of books (and then some) to the library on Monday, I discovered the library was claiming that four had not been returned. Admitting my messy standard of living (creative chaos. . . ), I double checked my apartment, although I was positive that the books were not here. And they weren't. A trip back to the library found them exactly where they were supposed to be--on the shelves.
3. I knew the thesis wasn't done, but I can't seem to find the energy to give the conclusion whatever enthusiasm it needs. What do I want to read at the end of my thesis? Nothing. Or perhaps I should write that "NOTHING."
1. Why does the thesis format have to be so ugly? Can't I employ my skills typesetting to make it look pretty and readable? Thus masking all its flaws? Instead it's a double-spaced Times New Roman nightmare, complete with chapter titles in ALL CAPS. Ick ick ick.
2. After hauling a box of books (and then some) to the library on Monday, I discovered the library was claiming that four had not been returned. Admitting my messy standard of living (creative chaos. . . ), I double checked my apartment, although I was positive that the books were not here. And they weren't. A trip back to the library found them exactly where they were supposed to be--on the shelves.
3. I knew the thesis wasn't done, but I can't seem to find the energy to give the conclusion whatever enthusiasm it needs. What do I want to read at the end of my thesis? Nothing. Or perhaps I should write that "NOTHING."
Monday, February 25, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
the guilt
I've been beginning for the move in April. Because I will be moving, academic future or no. But seven years equals a lot of stuff. Books, movies, clothes, pillows. Two of my couch pillows must have mated, because they are taking over my apartment. So most of those have to be put to sleep.
I have no problem getting rid of clothes. Pillows. Random food storage. But CDs, movies, magazines, and books--it's as if I've decided to chuck my friends into a plastic bag. There's no way I can take them all with me. Maybe the CDs and DVDs in media folders. Maybe. But the books. . .
I stumbled over a solution tonight: selling books to a used bookstore in Salt Lake. They won't be subjected to the shame of DI, but still. . . am I doing the right thing?
I have no problem getting rid of clothes. Pillows. Random food storage. But CDs, movies, magazines, and books--it's as if I've decided to chuck my friends into a plastic bag. There's no way I can take them all with me. Maybe the CDs and DVDs in media folders. Maybe. But the books. . .
I stumbled over a solution tonight: selling books to a used bookstore in Salt Lake. They won't be subjected to the shame of DI, but still. . . am I doing the right thing?
Friday, February 22, 2008
the polls are now closed
USC won by a landslide (7 votes, most of which were courtesy of Mr. Tucker), followed by Utah, with Houston and Ohio tying for third place.
Unfortunately, these schools will not accept the editorgirl poll along with my transcripts and writing samples, so I guess we'll just have to wait for those envelopes to come in the mail. Drumroll please. . .
Cornell said no.
Utah said waitlisted.
Stay tuned as six other schools weigh in on my academic future.
- - -
In other news, my thesis defense will take place one week from today at 8:00 a.m. The gods must be crazy
Unfortunately, these schools will not accept the editorgirl poll along with my transcripts and writing samples, so I guess we'll just have to wait for those envelopes to come in the mail. Drumroll please. . .
Cornell said no.
Utah said waitlisted.
Stay tuned as six other schools weigh in on my academic future.
- - -
In other news, my thesis defense will take place one week from today at 8:00 a.m. The gods must be crazy
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thesis is the Loneliest Number
67 pages
2 number of weeks between scheduling my defense and my defense
3 poets--Osherow, Gluck, Creech
3 committee members
1 graduate student writing her thesis
2 number of weeks between scheduling my defense and my defense
3 poets--Osherow, Gluck, Creech
3 committee members
1 graduate student writing her thesis
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
It's done.
Well, it's not done done. But it is drafted done. Intro, Osherow, Gluck, Creech, conclusion. All jammed together into one pretty little file and shipped off to the chair. I even wrote the acknowledgements.
And now I can't sleep. My brain won't turn off. Except what am I supposed to think about now? Other than sleep? And what revisions Chair will make me make in the morning? It is the morning. Maybe I should revise now. Except I can't. I might start screaming and that would wake the Abby Baby. Who is sleeping in Bountiful tonight.
So here's the plan: 8:00 a.m. Chair flips his way through the thesis. 9:00 a.m. I meet with Chair and listen obediently to what changes must be made before I send this thing on to committee. I'm hoping to be done with it by noon, or slightly after noon. And then I wait for them to tell me I can schedule my defense, which has to be done by Feburary 22. In the meantime. . .
Szymborska's "4 o'clock in the morning" suggests that what saves us from that awful hour is 5:00 a.m. But 5:00 a.m. is just as awful. Trust me. I have experienced it too many times.
Okay, meantime. I am planning a party. I'm not sure what day, but it will be after the defense. It will be a "Pass" party and if I can swing it, it will also be my 25th birthday party. I've wanted to be 25 for forever. Not sure why. But 25 is one I'm going to celebrate. I'm not sure what day (TB and K, this might be subject by any Utah-ward plans you have), but I know the schedule. 7:00 to 8:00: music and drinks. 8:00 to 9:00-ish: poetry reading/open-mic. Hey, it's an editorgirl party and the whole point is the poetry. And then the rest of the night will dissolve into conversation and celebration and more drinks and more music. Maybe cake. Maybe cupcakes.
Because you have to celebrate with cupcakes.
And now I can't sleep. My brain won't turn off. Except what am I supposed to think about now? Other than sleep? And what revisions Chair will make me make in the morning? It is the morning. Maybe I should revise now. Except I can't. I might start screaming and that would wake the Abby Baby. Who is sleeping in Bountiful tonight.
So here's the plan: 8:00 a.m. Chair flips his way through the thesis. 9:00 a.m. I meet with Chair and listen obediently to what changes must be made before I send this thing on to committee. I'm hoping to be done with it by noon, or slightly after noon. And then I wait for them to tell me I can schedule my defense, which has to be done by Feburary 22. In the meantime. . .
Szymborska's "4 o'clock in the morning" suggests that what saves us from that awful hour is 5:00 a.m. But 5:00 a.m. is just as awful. Trust me. I have experienced it too many times.
Okay, meantime. I am planning a party. I'm not sure what day, but it will be after the defense. It will be a "Pass" party and if I can swing it, it will also be my 25th birthday party. I've wanted to be 25 for forever. Not sure why. But 25 is one I'm going to celebrate. I'm not sure what day (TB and K, this might be subject by any Utah-ward plans you have), but I know the schedule. 7:00 to 8:00: music and drinks. 8:00 to 9:00-ish: poetry reading/open-mic. Hey, it's an editorgirl party and the whole point is the poetry. And then the rest of the night will dissolve into conversation and celebration and more drinks and more music. Maybe cake. Maybe cupcakes.
Because you have to celebrate with cupcakes.
Monday, February 11, 2008
answers (courtesy of YouTube)
According to some of my friends, I haven't been blogging much lately (apparently pictures of the Abby Baby don't exactly count, even if they should). I've kind of written myself out with thesis and poetry attempts. So there's that. And there's the fact that it seems like the only things people want to know about my life are answers I don't have right now. For example, I don't know where I want to go to school next year, other than anywhere I applied that will let me in. (Although please see the poll at right: Where will editorgirl be in one year?). And I don't know when my thesis will be "done." Hell, I don't know what "done" means. I can't conceive of my thesis not being in progress, although I certainly will let you know when it is out of progress.
After this long list, I decided to find some questions I do have answers to. And to make it more fun, I suggest you follow the YouTube links.
The three songs I've been listening to over and over and over again.
I had to check out ABC's Eli Stone because I love Johnny Lee Miller and Victor Garber. This is the moment I decided I gave it two thumbs up.
This was the result of trying to find Victor Garber clips on YouTube.
And this was the result of spending more time on YouTube (skip to 1:40 for the performance).
Okay, so nothing groundbreaking. But it's keeping me up at night.
After this long list, I decided to find some questions I do have answers to. And to make it more fun, I suggest you follow the YouTube links.
The three songs I've been listening to over and over and over again.
I had to check out ABC's Eli Stone because I love Johnny Lee Miller and Victor Garber. This is the moment I decided I gave it two thumbs up.
This was the result of trying to find Victor Garber clips on YouTube.
And this was the result of spending more time on YouTube (skip to 1:40 for the performance).
Okay, so nothing groundbreaking. But it's keeping me up at night.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
and in conclusion. . .
I have just pulled another all-nighter. I'm sure my therapist and my mother won't approve, in that order, but I'm afraid it was necessary. Apparently my best thesis work happens when I'm not fully cognizant of what's going on.
Everything is now drafted, with the exception of the conclusion. You know, that part where I talk about what I mean by all those pages before. The part where I tell you you should care about all those pages before. The part where I. . .
It's not just tired. It's that I'm not sure what all this amounts to, other than graduation. I know I still feel passionate about contemporary American poetry, I still love these poets, and I think more people should read poetry, but that is a bunch of very general statements only loosely associated with the seventy pages or so that I'm ready to ship off to somewhere far far away.
How does this conclusion thing work, anyway? The Chair has told me to leave all critics behind and write as if I were talking to a class--if I were talking to a class about my thesis, it would be full of bizarre half-funny comments and warnings that graduate work can kill.
But hey, I just used the subjunctive, so I guess grad school taught me something.
No, wait. That was kindergarten.
Everything is now drafted, with the exception of the conclusion. You know, that part where I talk about what I mean by all those pages before. The part where I tell you you should care about all those pages before. The part where I. . .
It's not just tired. It's that I'm not sure what all this amounts to, other than graduation. I know I still feel passionate about contemporary American poetry, I still love these poets, and I think more people should read poetry, but that is a bunch of very general statements only loosely associated with the seventy pages or so that I'm ready to ship off to somewhere far far away.
How does this conclusion thing work, anyway? The Chair has told me to leave all critics behind and write as if I were talking to a class--if I were talking to a class about my thesis, it would be full of bizarre half-funny comments and warnings that graduate work can kill.
But hey, I just used the subjunctive, so I guess grad school taught me something.
No, wait. That was kindergarten.
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