ifeelbetter: (Default)
Guys, look at this:

He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.

NOW look at this:
No, seriously, look at this business )

So I taught Stoppard today. I feel passionately about Stoppard. Like. IDEK. It's a Big Deal for me. I know The Invention of Love because my sister heard about it when we were in high school. And we were walking around NYC one weekend, that being the basic activity of most of my youth, and we see the sign for the play. My sister--who had her first job at the time--ducks in and we ask how much a ticket would cost--imagining something like the enormous amount of $20 or something. The answer comes back: $100. Per ticket. And we've never even conceived of such a large amount of money before--we were still doing our mathematical calculations by how many bags of chips that amount of money could theoretically buy--and my sister hesitated for a beat and then handed over her card and bought two tickets on the spot. And so we saw the play--not understanding the words, the names, the laughs that rolled through the rest of the audience, nothing--but we both agreed, afterward, that we loved A. E. Housman passionately and permanently. And that has not changed since.

I mean it when I say I feel passionately about this play. And students can be so glorious sometimes--they voiced their confusion at the beginning of class but, an hour and a half later, they had caught my enthusiasm. It's days like this that I know why I do what I do and how people can exist with each other in peace and happiness.

Also. I made a new rule when we did Tennyson that students could win extra credit by memorizing poetry and reciting it to me in my office hours. A student actually came up to me to ask if she should memorize the original Latin of Catullus or the translation. Sometimes, man. Sometimes I glory to be a teacher.

I'll leave you with this from Catullus:
da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then a second thousand, then a second hundred,
then immediately a thousand then a hundred.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
My computer won't turn on. This is incredibly sad for my life because I'm leaving for my Thanksgiving-at-home time in two days and the repair shop said it will probably be two days before they fix it. If they can even fix it.

So I'm in my office, avoiding reading The Bondwoman's Narrative and (though not my fault for once!) avoiding grading papers....making more lists. I make terrible decisions, what can I say?

[livejournal.com profile] jedusor suggested "Top Five Authors who should have written children's lit" and I was like, whoooooa. SUCH a cool idea.

But first I'm gonna do a Top Five Children's Lit because...I don't know why. To show my taste in books? To give context? As a warmup?

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream. )

Now for people I wish would (have) writ(ten) children's lit. (Those sure are some hard-working parentheses in that sentence.)

Children are like wet cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression. )
ifeelbetter: (Default)
I am doing a self imposed version of NaNoWriMo this month. 50k words in 30 days. I started on the fourth for the sole purpose of getting fireworks when I finish.

Two days in. So far so good.

Still don't have a plot though. I do have a document of TfLN and FMLs I might need and a note that says, and I quote: "pulls a Norma Rae at the Pancake House??"

Also reading Roth because of Bad English PhD Guilt. I don't feel I'm legit until I read a Roth novel, y'know?

Though those 20th century people (in my field, not the writers themselves) shouldn't be encouraged in their ego-centrism. I mean, do you know how many lit PhDs out there have never cracked the spine of a Dickens? Is this not shameful? DICKENS.

So, current agenda:
1) read for prelims in the fall.
2) write a novel in 30 days.
3) read loads of novels that English-y types always moon over and keep in their back pockets and tear up when they read aloud the passages that "sing."

As always, I wonder why I am (a) up so late and (b) NOT ASLEEP??


ifeelbetter: (Default)

August 2012

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