Anyway, I’m
incredibly excited to not be on campus for a week. Even though I love the
absurd tininess of my college, the way it manages to be this friendly
tightly-knit community, there’s a point in spring semester when we’ve all felt
trapped on campus by the snow and we’re all too busy to go beyond the two-square
blocks of the campus and surrounding providers-of-relatively-cheap-foodstuffs
and Macalester begins to feel claustrophobically small. And then spring break
comes and we all escape for at least a few days and come back to a campus that
now feels cozy-small instead of suffocatingly-small.
[I also
might be somewhat excited about seeing my parents. And my cats. And the sun.
And eating real food. And going to the Grand Canyon. But you know, no big
deal.]
After I
posted my blog last time and Charmaine and I went to the gym and played
ping-pong and then returned and agreed that we’d be going to sleep early because so much work to do on Sunday, we accidentally fell into conversation
about her religious beliefs and ended up having this rather epic discussion of
belief and faith until about three in the morning. It was fascinating and
challenging (though always respectful) and made me realize some things about Charmaine
and myself that I hadn’t quite noticed before. Even though it was, at times, a
difficult conversation and even though I really did need the sleep, I’m glad we
were able to have a conversation like that.
On Sunday, I
remembered why it was, exactly, that I’d planned to go to bed early the night before
and consequently spent the whole day in the library doing reading for class
(primarily selected sections of Tennyson’s In
Memoriam, a gorgeous poem about grieving and loss and working your way
through that, written over the span of about fourteen years following the death
of one of his closest friends). I got coffee and found a study nook on the
fourth floor and stared at the window at the (miraculously) blue sky when I
needed a break.
Sometimes my
life is just sickeningly collegiate and charming.
On Monday, I
returned to the library to work on essays with Emma (which sounds like the name
of a really excellent television show—“Up next, the delightful sitcom about an
English graduate student and her adventures in student papers, research
projects, and romance: Essays with Emma! When we return.” [Although that also
just sounds like Clara’s life.]) for my Shakespeare Studies class. The paper
was due Tuesday at midnight, but, as always, I had a ridiculous amount of reading
for British Youth Subcultures, so I promised myself I’d just finish the paper
Monday night and then edit it Tuesday afternoon. So Emma and I wrote and wrote
and wrote until the library closed and then, slightly worse for wear, went to
her friend’s room and wrote and wrote and wrote until I finally finished at
three in the morning. When I walked outside to return to my room, I discovered
that the snow which had been falling all of Monday had continued while we were
writing and gorgeous fat fluffy flakes were drifting down in the
streetlamp-light. All the sidewalks were blanketed with snow and everything was
so quiet—that utter stillness of a
snowfall mixed with the silence of the early morning.
It was
completely gorgeous and definitely worth being up that late. (Plus I got an A
on my paper, so there’s that.)
Wednesdays
are “treat nights” in the English department where they have some sort of free
food (nachos, this time) and all the Englishy people hang out and chat with
each other. I went with Rachel and ended up having this awesome, complicated
conversation about personhood (Chudgar would be so proud) and the ethics of
reading private writings by famous dead people (and what this means for our
generation, with nearly everything we write existing semi-permanently online)
with Rachel, Erin (this awesome girl from my
Victorian lit class) and a girl named Kai whose name I didn’t know until
the end of the conversation. I love that I can stumble upon these crazy
discussions, that small talk in college can suddenly become lke an in-class
discussion. This, everybody, is why I go to a tiny liberal arts college. It’s
for moments like that.
[I’m writing
this on the airplane and we just flew over the Grand Canyon!! And the clouds
(which have been omnipresent since we took off) parted just long enough for a
glimpse of it.
I’m going to
be there in a few days!!]
Thursday and
Saturday were performances for the Senior Directing Projects (the capstone
projects for theater majors focusing on directing is to choose, design, cast,
and direct a one-act play of their choosing) and since I have a rule about
trying to go to shows that are readily available, and this one was free and
five minutes from my room, I went to both. The first was “Remedial English”,
which was about high school crushes and awkwardness and loving musicals while
still being very aware of the absurdities of the genre. It was truly hilarious—my
favorite scene was a fantasy ballet sequence that was clearly mocking similar
sequences in canonical musicals (Oklahoma,
for example) in the most loving way possible. The other was called “Freakshow”
and it was a bit pretentious and unnecessarily obscure—the kind of “experimental”
theater I find most annoying. But I’m still glad I went—there were some awesome
moments.
Friday was Founder’s
Day, which is a school dance to celebrate Macalester’s birthday—part of Mac’s
never-ending quest to seem more established and old than we really are. Charmaine
and I ate cupcakes, took awkward formal pictures for free (the pose the photographers
had us take was really bizarre…), and watched all the drunk people dance (which
is always an entertaining pastime). Then the music stopped, a spotlight lit up part
of the dance floor, and the Mac bagpiper (yes, we do have a bagpiper on staff) came marching in playing vaguely
Scottish and familiar, followed by four kilted students carrying a palanquin on
which rested a three-tiered blue and white cake. The marched it to the center
of the dance floor, the student body sang “Happy Birthday” to Macalester (in
about four different keys simultaneously), and then the cake was processed out
to parts unknown. Charmaine and I certainly never saw it again. After we
recovered from the excitement of getting to see
a cake (is this an instance of having one’s cake but not getting to eat it
too?), we decided to head off and ended up in Tori’s room taking about boys.
Because not all of my conversations are
sophisticated and intelligent.
I spent the
rest of the weekend working on all of the crazy amounts of pre-Midterms
homework I had, although I also had to watch Clockwork Orange for class on Sunday night. Which was not a
particularly pleasant experience. By which I mean that I ended up calling my
parents in tears for the first time (I think?) in my entire college experience.
I’m not sure why it was so difficult for me to deal with in that moment—although
it probably had something to do with overwhelming stress and fatigue in the
other areas of my life—but it rather sucked. But I went on a walk through the
snow and talked to my parents and came up with some analytical reasons for why
someone would write something as deeply horrible as that book/movie and then I
felt much better. Unfortunately, we
still had to spend last week and will apparently spend some of the week after
break analyzing it in class, but at least that’s less painful than a first
experience of a text.
Random sunset picture to lighten the mood...
This last week has been all midterms and IDIM proposals and insanity. Wednesday was the hardest, being the day of both my art history midterm and a test for Victorian lit (we have four essay-tests of equal weight during the semester instead of midterms/finals or papers—this was one of them). I think both of them went well, especially my art history midterm. This may sound a bit crazy, but I always kind of enjoy art history exams because they’re kind of like a puzzle. If you’ve studied and done the memorization part, you just have to remember based on viewing the image the name/date/artist and artistic/cultural context. Which is challenging in a rather fun way. I also always like the attribution/unknown question, where we’re shown an image we haven’t seen before and are supposed to take an educated guess as to who created it and explain why. This one was kind of easy because it was so visually reminiscent of one of the paintings we’d studied and was in the Mannerist style, which is always rather distinctive. And I know I got it right because I looked it up on google images when I got back to my room.
After the
Victorian lit test and a meeting, I ended up at another English department treat
night—cake! for St. Patrick’s day?—where Erin and I had an incredibly deep
conversation about how Netflix is the future and also Erin struggles to decide
who is better: Rory from Doctor Who
or Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer?
This is the kind of important question my generation needs to answer!!
The rest of
the week was filled with working on my IDIM, which—you may have noticed—I have
written a new draft of. Since I posted my “final draft” last time. Whatever, it’s
a girl’s prerogative to change her mind, yes? Anyway, good news. I OFFICALLY
HAVE A COMMITTEE FOR MY PROPOSAL! That means that I have three signatures on my
course list and proposal and three promises for recommendation letters soon and
three professors who have agreed to work with me for the rest of my college
career if my proposal is accepted. My committee is Joanna Inglot (professor for
Art of the West II, chair of the art history department), Kari
Shepherdson-Scott (professor for Intro to Visual Culture last semestser), and
Casey Jarrin (professor for British Youth Subcultures). Professor Warde is
tragically not part of my committee
because he is apparently retiring at the end of this semester and would
therefore be unable to work with me as an advisor. But he gave me some advice
for my proposal and said he thought the committee would accept it—or at least
that the committee when he was on it
(about eight years ago) would have accepted it. So that’s exciting! Dr. J
tampered my excitement about this slightly by reiterating her institutional
distrust (she thinks that the college doesn’t actually like to allow IDIMs to
happen), but Joanna re-enthused me by calling my proposal “super brilliant.”
!!! Kari also said it was really impressive and well-written. So there’s that.
I’m planning to turn in my proposal at the beginning of April so that I have
plenty of time to stop worrying about it.
I finished
off the week with only one class on Friday—Victorian lit. A few days previously
Professor Warde had informed us, via e-mail that we would be watching some
Gilbert and Sullivan in class as a cheerful sort of send-off to spring break.
He started out the e-mail like this: “Yet another extraordinary communication
by means of the information highway. Sweet Progress. It's a
beautiful thing. Adapt or die.” This, THIS, is why I love Professor
Warde. It’s like he’s actually a lost Victorian wandering around in the
twenty-first century being all amazed by the technological advancements! He
reiterated this point in class, saying that e-mail was basically amazing
because he could send us something and we’d
all get it right away at the same time and maybe he’d start sending us
random e-mails to “see if it still works.” Basically a perfect professor. So
Friday morning I did some spring cleaning and packing and then went off to
watch selections from the 1980s movie version of Pirates of Penzance, which was absurd and utterly farcical with
some slapstick added in for good measure. Erin and Rachel and Jenni and I
practically cried with laughter during it, especially when the end of the film
was a bizarre shot of some bowler hats flying away like UFOs into the night.
When I got
back to my room I discovered that not only had Macalester approved my study
abroad proposal (HUZZAH!), but they had
e-mailed the program I hope to go on (Huzzah…?) who then sent me an e-mail
saying that it would be really cool if I could turn in my online application by
the early deadline, March 15th or ASAP afterwards (NOT-huzzah). So I
ended up spending the evening working on that and then the beginning of my
plane ride this morning writing my essay (when I wasn’t reading Macbeth). Once I get off the plane, I
should be able to submit my application and then at least that will be done.
And now it’s
time for a lovely week of freedom and food and hiking and family (with some
unfortunately necessary homework thrown in because college waits for no woman)
and sleep! Love you all (and I promise
I’ll have Grand Canyon pictures next time I post)!
P.S. THOSE ARE BUDS!!
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