I had something I wanted to post, but I don’t have time to get to it today.
Sorry about that.
I had something I wanted to post, but I don’t have time to get to it today.
Sorry about that.
I promise there’s an engagement story.
So, I just now looked up my grade for the Shakespeare class I took during the summer term. I looked on AIM, which just displays the grade. Then I had to go onto Blackboard to see the breakdown of the assignments. My brow is still moderately furrowed.
My progressing reactions:
What.
Wait . . . what?
Really?
Huh.
What?
Wow.
Huh.
Then, I raised my hands and sort of pumped my fists. I was prepared for worse.
Those who have heard me talk about the class know what my issues were. I loved reading the plays. Shakespeare is a genius, and I know our babies will be beautiful geniuses. The class discussions were fun and I often whispered amusing things to myself about the plays and about certain classmates.
I had pretty much procrastinated the last three assignments:
-2-3 page performance review of Midsummer: this was mostly about the comic timing and physicality of the performance. I commented on how it felt as if Shakespeare and I Love Lucy had collaborated, and it was funny and wonderful and yada yada yada. I skipped class on Friday, August 5, to work on this, and even though it wasn’t a dense or demanding paper, I was kicking myself for putting it off for so long.
–2-page article summary about Macbeth: so I found this article about Lady Macbeth’s soliloquy asking to be unsexed to prepare herself mentally and emotionally for murder. And the author proposed that she was really asking for her menstrual period to stop; the more she was like a man, the more capable of evil she could be. She connected medical terms with motive and the sciency part totally drew me in. I wrote this Sunday night, after finishing my final paper. The article was fun to read, and I enjoyed summarizing it and giving my opinion on the author’s stance.
-8-10 page final paper on King Lear: I basically tried poking holes in the idea that this is a purely pagan play. Not groundbreaking, and it has been done a trillion times before. In my opinion, one of the crappiest pieces of crap I have ever written. I sat on my bed on a Sunday (with the paper due Monday at noon), with textbooks and journal articles stacked/strewn next to/around me, and I shook my head with every paragraph that appeared on the laptop screen, with every completed page. It finished close to nine pages, and I checked the works cited page, and I proofed the paper itself to check for typos and incomplete thoughts and bad transitions and other instances of crappery.
So, I turned all three assignments in on Monday, August 8, and those papers didn’t leave my hands with the feeling that I did a good job, but only that I had finished them. Which is good; I was grateful not to worry about them anymore.
Then I took the final Wednesday morning, August 10. I worked through it in about 2 hours and 15 minutes, and we had a 3-hour time limit. It seemed to go smoothly for the first hour and forty-five minutes, and then all of a sudden I was all, “Aw, man, there goes my attention span,” and I didn’t try to focus for too much longer. Also, I was going to St. George that day, which was clearly more important than some old final exam.
So, the grades were submitted Friday, and I’m going to talk with my professor so that I can understand exactly what happened. And if I’m dong some things right, I need to know what they are and keep doing those things.
Also, I don’t know if I’m fundamentally okay with being rewarded for procrastinating. Do I just chalk that up to part of the overall college experience?
This movie is truly one of the best child actor performances I have ever seen. Of course Lee Pace is cute and stuff, but the little girl really steals the show. Her innocence, her role melts into her being. It doesn’t even seem like she’s acting.
In other news, my life seems to be crumbling before my very eyeballs. That is, if I kept my eyeballs open long enough to notice. I’m overwhelmed and frustrated, and sleep is my newest and best friend. It doesn’t judge or yell; it just lets me be.
Six weeks of class left. I don’t know, you guys.
Why aren’t I studying for my French midterm? Because I don’t want to.
Is that weird grammar, why aren’t I? Why am I not? Why amin’t? That last one works. Stress the first syllable, schwa the middle vowel: /AM-É™nt/. Pretty easy, yeah? And quite useful.
Why amin’t studying for my French midterm? A friend sent me a photograph of her newly-turned 3-year old yesterday. He was sitting behind a huge chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting on top and three candles staked into it, aflame. This was pre-consumption, obviously. I called this friend last night (before my hike at Rock Canyon) to wish her child a happy birthday. I’ve known this friend since we were 10 years old; I was her maid of honor. She calls my mother “Little Mom.” Her kids call me “Auntie May-May.” The least I could do was be a good aunt and get the update on the cupcake. Over the phone, it sounded like it turned into a performance art installation: chocolate smeared everywhere, on surfaces, little faces, pudgy fingers. I couldn’t be sure, but there also seemed to be interpretive dancing that included water guns that ARE NOT ALLOWED to be filled inside the house. In the name of art, mom, just this one time.
Anyway, when my friend was growing up, the children in her home weren’t considered “big kids” until they were taller than their grandmother. While the grandmother’s loving memory tarries, she has passed on, and so now my friend says that her children aren’t “big kids” until they’re taller than Auntie May-May. I told her I’d be more than happy to fill those shoes.
I had to write about it.
If by next year the then-4-year old is taller than me? SO not fair. Son’t fair at all.
I’m so sorry about the list of 10 songs I can’t live without. Four songs left. I wish I could just name them right here and now, but the truth is I’m still deliberating. This is pretty hard, you guys. I’m pretty sure one of the songs is by Kermit the Frog. And another of the songs is a clarinet solo piece, but I don’t know if it’s going to be by Mozart or Weber. I’m kind of leaning toward Weber. And one of the songs is definitely by Patty Griffin. And the last song? It might be U2. The Cranberries? Tori Amos? Radiohead. I can’t decide!
Plus, you know how I have to say something about each of the songs and make these posts multi-media. All that takes time. And I don’t have a lot of that right now. I promise to finish. I hope you understand.
Love you!