Hey, remember me?

Things are on the up and out, with a new job, a cat, and the anticipation of moving to a nicer part of town in September (possibly with some very excellent people!)

But if you'd like to hear about that, you'll have to head over to this place: http://www.blessedfog.blogspot.com

See you there?

As of tomorrow, it's been a week since moving to Chicago. I'm becoming less scared of our neighborhood, although the fact that U of C keeps sending Joel grim emails about not walking alone after dark doesn't help. He starts classes on Monday and I'm more than a little jealous, since I'm absorbed in finding an adult sort of job (read: no more cafes). There is an opening in the U Chicago Press for a manuscript editor, and I suspect I'm in the irritating position of being quite able to do the job without having quite enough experience to feel confident applying. Everyone says that B. A.'s are useless, but really, they're useless.

Apart from that, I've been playing house. So far we have a mattress, a table and chairs, and a futon that's arriving on Monday. So, all the rest of our things are jumbled in suitcases and boxes on the living room floor. The longer they stay there, the more I'm used to them, so I think we need to find some shelves soon and unpack. Even in a state of near total disorder, it's exciting to have a place that's mine. New Hampshire, for a lot of reasons, made me feel like a guest. And even though I hadn't let myself worry about living with Joel in any concrete way, so far it's been great. It's been lovely to have a few days of camping out and working our way through a bottle of excellent scotch that the inestimable John sent as a get-well-present for Joel.

Part of why the job search is stressful is because now I'm faced with making friends without the security of a college scene, or people who know me from high school. It's been strange having little conversations with people in our building, at the Co-op, or in the book store; I'm not quite sure how to turn those into something more substantial, or even if I want to. Meeting potential friends makes me more nervous that if I were just flirting with them, somehow that seems like more of a game.

Once Joel's school and my (prospective) job get started, I'll have more to write about. So far it seems like we're on a little vacation, but I'm looking forward to feeling like I really do live here.

ps- I'm trying to stop looking at petfinder.com, we can't afford a dog or a cat, but how can I deal with finding a kitty named one-eyed-Willy??

Although I'm now a college grad, summer still appears to be a space of relentlessly wasted time.

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I have a B.A. now

I also have a sunburn

All my possessions are in a van heading for New Hampshire, and I'm not quite sure when I'll be following them. I'm spending tonight in my naked bedroom, lulling this year's ghosts to sleep.

I'm enjoying dawdling (in a peculiar sort of way) over my last undergrad paper. Who knows when I'll be asked to do something like this again? With this also comes the feeling that I have the right to be done with all classwork, and to begin obsessing over finding a job in Chicago. (Emily, I want to work in their library, with the archives!)

I think I'm coming out of the postpartum funk of the end of project-writing. My board praised me a lot, told me to make it publishable, and shook my hand. (The only question I choked a bit on was "How do you think the novel is different from philosophical writing?" Although in answering it I did realize that's pretty much what my project is about...)

And I'm nearly a graduate. Bloomberg is speaking, and I'm looking forward to some spectacle.

More than that, I want to ride my bike to the beach.

Somehow choosing to address the problem of some jerk talking on a cellphone in the library by starting a much louder argument with him about it seems to rather miss the point.

marriedtothesea.com

From my list of things which would entertain me and are unlikely to occur (it isn't really a list, but one day I'll start writing these things down):

Somewhere around page 47 my project will transform itself into a script for a musical. Anyone got a rhyme for "dissociation?"

I'm also toying with the idea of beginning the Dostoevsky chapter with something along the lines of: "Well, basically this book is long. Really, really, damn long." Marina would probably prefer that I talk about epilepsy and Levinas instead.

I've spent my very last spring break (somehow I don't imagine grad school vacations as including that burden of finding someplace sunny and exciting to wreak some havoc) amidst New York's lazy-ass excuse for springtime. Flurries on an April afternoon? Unacceptable.

In five months I'm going to need a job and a home in Chicago. Does that feel real yet? Nope.

They're all going away

Jean Baudrillard, 1929-2007

Evidently death does not cease to exist, as with the rest of reality.

I'm also forming the thesis that the deaths of deconstructionists causes bees to vanish.

Of course, it could also be Communists, but my money's on the French.

Lately I've become more familiar with incredibly obvious "I'm worrying about something" dreams:

Last night's involved quite a few scenes, most of which I've forgotten, but what stuck with me was the part where I realized that someone has removed most of the bones in my feet. I discovered all these little marks on my feet, something like a lot of paper-cuts, that I could pick apart to have a look inside. There were tendons and veins and slimy, muscley things, but not a single bone. Although I was intensely disgusted by the sight of my feet, I didn't feel much surprise that the bones should be gone. I woke up with the strangest feeling in my toes, and spent a good fifteen minutes poking at them to make sure everything was in there.

Actually, I think I remember something from 'Girl Interrupted' about her believing her bones disappeared from her hand. So this isn't even a very original nervous dream.

Tomorrow I may sleep past 8:30 and spend all day not-on-campus. I also have plans for a scone from the bakery and loose leaf tea. The theory is that this will result in some pages having something to do with Stendhal and inter-personal originality, but if I can just manage to end the day with fewer possessions covering my floor I'll be happy.

Hearing from people I haven't seen in a while is a wonderful experience- I'll have to write more letters.

Devon Sproule is playing at 11 Feroe Road (or is that Drive? it's the wee little street on the left of the Black Swan in Tivoli) She rocks some serious socks (in a folksingery sort of way) and ya'll should come to hear it.

On the suspicion that some may still read these things: Hello everyone. I'm back, kinda.

I think I've gotten more self-conscious in my old age, I had to make myself promise that I'd put up what I'm writing this time, no matter how I feel about it. Public journal writing also may have been easier when I had more goings-on, or at least the time to turn something like a bike ride or a minor annoyance into prose.

As of right now I'm wasting my one free weekday, although my other recent promise is to get started with some new project things, so I can stop looking over my shoulder all the time on campus, hoping to avoid Marina. I'm still afraid of my project, and am looking forward to when it stops seeming so much bigger than I am.

And now I'm going to go enjoy the last hour or two of today's sunlight. Something more substantial is forthcoming, about Oregon, or dinner parties I have had and have yet to plan.

I'm becoming all the small things that need my attention, is this growing up?

Over and out.

my real goals include getting a haircut, buying new jeans, and running the whole of the river trail, but these sound like more fun:

In 2007, isleofinnisfree resolves to...

Apply for a new caberet.
Go womanizing three times a week.
Volunteer to spend time with scholars.
Pay for my selkies on time.
Connect with my inner mania.
Buy new pyrotechnics.

Get your own New Year's Resolutions:

I'll write a proper post sometime soon, but for now let me just say:

You'd think it would be much easier to finish a paper with a full night's sleep, a cat my lap, and the parents of Joel helpfully bringing me things like coffee and french toast, but it isn't. This seems to suggest that thinking demands suffering. (I'm still going to eat the french toast, though)

This semester I was finally smart enough to check the books I need for classes out of the library, so I could instead spend that couple hundred dollars on books for the thesis. I exaggerate, it's not that much; but I've still used a not-inconsiderable amount of money ordering books that will contribute to my developing great muscles when the time comes to move them all from Bard. Anyway, I usually ignore the many emails I get telling me that my book has shipped, is going to ship, is thinking about beginning the process of shipping, etc. Today, however, I read this one, and it made me laugh. So, now you can see it too:

Hello! We received your order for this book through Amazon.com. It made our day!

As soon as we got your order, your book was gently taken from our shelves and placed onto a satin pillow. Then our Certified Packing and Shipping Specialist (C.P.S.S.) stepped forward. A hush fell over the crowd as he carefully placed your book in the finest packing material that $.75 can buy, making sure it's properly cushioned for the journey ahead. Then the package was sealed, and your address was carefully entered on the front. Oh, how we celebrated then!

Of course, everyone insisted on going to the post office to wave farewell to your book and speed it on its way to you! We are shipping your book today by media mail, as specified. You should have your book in 2 - 14 business days (we'll ask the postal workers to do their best to get it there quickly for you!).

If you are happy with your book, please leave us positive feedback on Amazon.com. If you do, then other customers will know we run a good bookstore! To leave feedback at Amazon, go to www.amazon.com/feedback and sign in. Scroll down to this order, and you'll see a button to click to leave feedback. If you're not satisfied, please let us know! We'll do what it takes to make you happy with your order!

We hope you enjoyed shopping at Finger Lakes Cottage. We sure enjoyed having you! In fact, we've added your name to the plaque on our wall as our "Customer of the Week."

Thank you so much for your order! Please come back to visit us at Finger Lakes Cottage Books soon!


This book they're sending me has the added appeal of being entirely perfect for what I'm going to talk about, I feel so fortunate.

Taken from Camus:
"Je me revolte, donc nous sommes"

Taken from a packet of tea:
"Live for each other"

"Le recit se termine par un dernier hommage aux hysteriques de la Salpetriere; Breton ecrit: 'La beaute sera CONVULSIVE ou ne sera pas' "

I always forget, after spending time out of this loop, how peculiar and demanding academic schedules are. It seems impossible that just three months ago I could sit down and spend a few hours translating Latin poetry, when tonight I kept blinking stupidly at it and thumbing through my dictionary. I remember being a freshman in awe of the handful of brilliant Lit. seniors, am I really supposed to be like them now? I hope a few weeks of getting used to things will bring me a little more confidence too.

Starting this thesis feels like a pregnancy, I don't know if I believe just yet that my mind is capable of producing something 120 pages long and fit to be published (at least, that's the dream). I've spent nearly a week rewriting my proposal, what can I say about something not yet written, when I don't even know for sure what I'm using? I've gotten pretty good at rattling off a few-sentences-long explaination: authenticity and self-representation, 19th century novels and the ordinary language method; but going into several pages of particulars is a miserable experience.

But I'm alright, having two wonderful roommates and some splendid friends besides is going to make it easier to adjust to being at Bard without Joel. Even so, it's jarring. The summer wasn't as hard, since Amherst and New Hampshire aren't places I expect him to be. But coming out of class and realizing I was heading for Stone Row made me so sad. And hearing from him that Garry Hagberg wants him to go to England to study Wittgenstein wasn't much better. I'm already getting used to him being on the other side of the country, now I have to contemplate across the Atlantic. On the other hand, Joel in Europe would give me some motivation to look into that English-teaching program in France, which would have the added appeal of letting me put off thoughts of Ph.D. programs for another year. Or maybe we'll both get into U Chicago or Texas, and I'll get to stop fretting.

What I want most of all is to get past this planning stage of things, and to start working. I don't need time for worrying.

So, it seems that my laptop battery may combust if I continue to use it. Does anyone know how to find a computer's serial number, so that I can exchange this thing for a less flammable power source?

Interior design question to be resolved Monday night:

Should I keep the Naked Wax Blood Cave Switch in my bedroom?

I think it would give me nightmares. Wherever I place it, I'm so proud that Joel bequeathed it to me.