i’m that girl. for at least the next nine months.

i was all set, in the elysian mists of a mind that imagined perfect productivity and infinite motivation, to not blog this week. i mean, i promised that i would blog tomorrow for ohmygoshi while she endures forced family fun, but other than that, i had decided that i would not blog.

you know, keep the energy for all of these things i have to do that described yesterday in BIG STRESSFUL LETTERS.  or maybe i just imagined that part.

i don’t know why i don’t remember that, when i am stressed and under the gun like i am, i inevitably have stories to share and venting to inflict on others, among whom are my eager and devoted fans.

(that’s you, in case you didn’t know.)

today’s story comes from the classroom. i know that i have been incredibly quiet on this front, but this is not really so much about the students as it is about me. i want you to imagine something.  imagine that you, with the intent of waking up to go back to work, went to sleep and set your cell phone alarm for about an hour later. power nap, you thought, despite the fact that you already learned that you just don’t do well doing the nighttime power nap model thing anymore, especially when you nearly destroy yourself at the gym that day.  imagine that you spent the bulk of the night waking up every hour or two hours (or maybe three…i can’t remember now) because of this ever-so-brilliant plan, to achieve only your long time never articulated goal of resetting said cell phone alarm while half asleep.

we’ve all got talents. marvel at mine.

imagine, then also, that you woke up somewhat early this morning to grade a few papers and to prep for class, and that while reading the assignment for class this morning, realized how very much you loved the author that you had assigned who is, not coincidentally, also the subject of one of your upcoming dissertation chapters.  imagine your delight when reading the snippet of her journal included in your anthology that the choices were wonderful and offered a lot to discuss.

also, imagine that you look like crap. clean but rumply. that should add a little something to the mix.

if you’ve successfully imagined these conditions, then you’re ready for these:

I feel like I’m reading somebody’s really boring diary…there’s no, like, gossip or anything.

I mean, her descriptions are good.

Yeah, that seems a little out of character for her.

…it’s SO weird!

I think I would have loved to see what was inside her head instead of her descriptions of nature.

I wonder if there’s something psychological about fear of cows…like indicative of incestuous feelings for your brother?

and my favorite…which was said in a small group sitting right in front of me…

I’m just trying to make up some deep twist on this…

And lest I be unclear, these were all said by one person.  ONE PERSON.  one person who already seems to think that she knows everything. or if she doesn’t really think that, she’s one of those people who SEEMS like she thinks that.  either way, it annoys me.

and her voice annoys me too.

but that’s neither here nor there.

the point was that it drove me nuts.  and the reason that it drove me nuts was because all of the things that she said were all so shortsighted, demonstrating such a stunning lack of insight that it was at once crushingly disappointing and completely enraging.

what have i been doing for six weeks?  what have we been doing?  nothing? you don’t know to look beyond and to use the tools that you’ve been given to achieve insight?


but what did i do? instead of stamping my feet and yelling, like i wanted to, i wrote down all her quotes.

to blog about.

because really this wasn’t about her.  i mean, i wish that student had given this writer a chance, just like i wish every semester that i teach all of the obscure writers that i love or travel narratives or anything that i am passionate about and students routinely aren’t.  it’s about me.

i’ve realized this semester that i am completely and totally in love with my dissertation topic. i’ve realized that i am not at all moderate when it comes to speaking about women writers and the Romantic era.  i’ve realized that when students don’t give them a chance, i get personally offended.

i am not sure that this is entirely healthy.

i have turned into one of THOSE grad students. the ones buried in their work. the ones shuffling along in $2 flip flops and baggy jeans with their hair pulled back and a perpetually pensive look on their faces because they are constantly thinking about the next thing to do.  the ones who measure the passage of time in increments of research, not actual measurable units.

the driven ones.

the ones who ramble on and on about stuff that doesn’t matter to anyone else to lots of people who don’t care….oh.


i’m that girl.

One Response to “i’m that girl. for at least the next nine months.”

  1. you are “that” girl. and that’s why you are so awesome!

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