The Comprehensive Exam

Ok. So. I'm not ready to take my exams in a week, and I've decided to put it off for a semester. Sad, but also glad. I need to do the leg work to really own my list. And I need to cultivate the focus that that kind of work takes. Turning over a new leaf. Starting again. I'll try not to make this blog my Comprehensive Exam Blog (because that could get tres boring), but, to celebrate my new start, I'm just going to post my trajectory for this week:

Novel: Waverly
Poetry: Barbauld, Blake, Hemans
Criticism: Benedict Anderson's Imagined Communities

Go team!

the time has come

well, it came a long time ago i guess. but now i think i'm getting closer to accepting it. the time has come to take charge of my academic life. i feel like a thrive in a mentor-mentee relationship. i thrive on pushes and encouragement from professors. however, the time has come to realize that i'm going to have to push myself. that i'm going to have to be the motivator, here. (i guess i have an option to actually ask one of my profs to push me--but i don't feel good about that. i think i'm too proud. and maybe this is a problem. maybe i like being upset about this. being the martyr. and if that's the case, i will really hate that i'm being that way. martyrs are not very fun people. so, let's hope that that's not the case. at any rate--it's not comfortable for me to ask a prof to do that). anyhow, i feel alone. and i'm going to keep myself company. and we're going to have a good time. and we're going to kick trash. because that's why one goes to gradschool. it's going to be hard to stop wanting that kind of validation. but that is what must be done. because the time has come.

anyhow, please excuse the fact that is apparently whine-blog! how annoying. please scroll down for happy post that i also posted today. i actually tried to make that post be at the top of my blog, but can't figure out how.

Memories

So, I tend to blog about worries or hangups or issues in my life; I often feel the need to get that stuff out on paper (well, "paper"). That can be quite dreary and boring (also, sneaking suspicion that I worry about people reading just the hangups and issues of my life--not sure I want you all to know how insecure I can be). Also, I don't quite believe in this blog. I'm still not sure what to do with it or do about it. But I also don't quite want to abandon it yet. So, I'm going to copy my very creative friend. She is blogging things she loves. Maybe I'll do that, too. But, for right now, I'm going to blog memories. I love stories. And I love telling stories. So, here's one:

Memory number 1: London.

The Time I Saw Kenneth Branagh

As background to my story, I love Kenneth Branagh.





So, fall 2001. My first study abroad to London. One evening, my friends and I were heading to a movie in Leicester Square. Jamie mentioned that Kenneth Branagh was directing a play called "Play What I Wrote." I said I wanted to go see it, and then we joked about him maybe being in London, and maybe even being at his play, and then we moved on to new subjects. A minute or two later he passed right by me heading in the opposite direction, smoking a cigarette, and talking to some guy. I stopped in the middle of the crowd in shock:

Me: "That was him!"
My friends: "Who?" (obviously they aren't as obsessed w/ KB as I am)
Me: "Kenneth Branagh! He just passed us."
Them: "No he did not, you're lying."
Me: "No way, he's right there."
My friend looks.
Friend: "Holy crap! It is Kenneth Branagh."

We turn around and stealthily stalk him. I wrack my brains for things to say...only stupid things come to mind. He goes into a restaurant. And we go to our movie. I did go see the play later, and it was very funny. The end.