And on a sidenote...

Hope Leslie bites.

Things to do...

...Which I am not doing. My presentation on Moby-Dick is this week, and I've been placed on the "Gender and Sexuality" group. A very broad topic in general, but quite quizzical when placed in the Moby-Dick context. I'm taking the helm of the queer theory aspect, and Prof. Neuman would like to focus mostly on what queer theory is, an then apply it to the text. Having to worry simply about theory and not specific Melville criticism is hard - especially since I have such a rudimentary grasp on theory as is.

I spent hours in the library today poring over articles and printing off excerpts from the John Hopkins Online Guide to Literary Theory, which is helpful. I can't really say that it's fun, though. I know some people are really into theory and discuss it at length, but I just find myself a little bit bored and scared of it. I know I shouldn't, but wouldn't you be if your experience with theory was limited to reading Derrida as a sophomore?

On top of that, I just checked out the new course listings (I'm clever and found them online without them being "officially" posted). And the English seminar that I was banking on taking is being offered at the same time of a class I NEED for my history major. And the only other option is also at the same time as my history capstone.

Stress, stress, stress. Is it time for Thanksgiving break yet?

this post lacks substance, but makes up for it in verbose rambling.

I gotta admit, I've never really been much for blogs. I own and still do keep up with a livejournal, but to be completely honest it's lacked much of a purpose other than providing angsty snapshots into the lives of my friends, and to keep up with celebrity scandal (oh hai, ONTD!). However, I've found I'm rather dullminded when it comes to writing in my actual journal, and sometimes I've yearned for a place where I can write whatever I've been thinking that doesn't involve the weird pretension I feel when writing about myself in a little leatherbound book. So I shall ramble incoherently and use the passive voice in an unforgivable manner on my very own blog.

I've spent most of my current year craving fiction of my own reading. I've got some wonderful books under my belt so far this year, and I really am enjoying reading what I am reading - as well as subsequent discussion later on in classes. Being an English and History double major is so perfect, simply because of this. However, even so, I get so misery from the fact that there are SO many wonderful new (and old) books out there that I'm just craving to delve into. I made the mistake of visiting Mr. Paperback this weekend, which ended up being both painful and enjoyable - seeing my fellow booksellers is always fun, but it makes me miss them, as well as all the books.

This summer I almost went without social interaction for the company of my books - and I read more in one summer than I think I ever have before in such a time frame - from the dense and historical/biographical (Nicholas & Alexandra - absolutely EXQUISITE), to the spartan (The Road - equally breathtaking), to the complex and psychological (The Secret History -again, fabulous.), all the way to the wildly populer (ALL the Harry Potter books). While Moby-Dick is not my ideal choice, I've enjoyed reading it. I just really miss some of the fun/interesting contemporary stuff.

Friends from home: I move for some sort of book club. I'm going to be in need for some serious discussion regarding books once I graduate.

Friends from school/any other Clark community member: FInd a way to let me be a student forever. My love affair with my academics here is all-encompassing.

I think that's a suitable first post. Cheers, muffins.