ifeelbetter: (Default)
So I specifically tried to be the hardest, most challenging of all Intro to College Writing instructors last semester. I did this assuming that reading my end-of-term evaluations would be an exercise in masochism and that I was sacrificing popularity for the quality of their writing.

I did indeed get some choice comments ("Hopefully she improves her teaching so students in the future will not suffer as I did," for example) but I also got some really lovely ones. More than that, though, I have heard from two or three students this semester that they have to come to me on recommendation from that previous group, the group I worked harder than any previous class.

That makes me do this in my heart:
ifeelbetter: (H50 - Danny's face)
I do love my roomies, heaps and oodles, but one of them is a Boy (in the most boy-ish sense of the word) and he just interrupted my conversation with another roommate about how much my students' papers are Not Fun to grade to tell me how to teach.

I mean. WHAT.

I get that outsiders don't understand how frustrating it is to grade heaps of awful papers, especially not when they never cared about essays or writing in the first place. I get that it's hard to comprehend how horrible a batch of identically wretched papers can be. I do. And if I can bother to understand all that, don't you think you could put some effort into figuring out why, with my actual!fact experience, I might be justified in having my actual!fact reaction?

He actually said, "You're so condescending to your students." You've never seen me with my students, fool. You see me blow off steam at home because I already know that that kind of negativity won't help the students get better because I am already a teacher.

Sorry. Just needed a quick vent.

My roommate is actually a very lovely boy most of the times. And he is a bit of a fish out of water in this house of girls who are all strongly connected to the local university, what with him being a programmer (so an actual 9-to-5 job) and incredibly young (like five years younger than the rest of us) and a boy (incurable, I've heard). I usually have patience with him assuming he's right all the time because, yeah, that will pass. But. This is my career. You don't hear me telling him what kind of programmer he is.

AND THEN. To apologize, he just said, "This conversation doesn't even matter to me. I feel like you're insulted by something I said and I didn't intend that."

ifeelbetter: (Blackadder dude kiss)


I was doing the research for my syllabus for next term to avoid writing my dissertation again--whoops--but. BUT. I found this book:

And I was like


ifeelbetter: (Default)
I am awarding myself an ironic award tonight for completing TWO. WHOLE. SENTENCES. in my dissertation. (Four if you count the two I added and then deleted. [Also. There were like ten hours between each of those steps.] Six if you count the false starts too.)


OK. That's enough waffle about teaching.

Other news: fabulous roommates and I are sticking together for another year (yay!), we're also getting Family Holiday Portraits at JC Penney this week because two out of four of us (me!) have never done so before (yay!), and the semester is almost over (YAAAAAAY!).

On the other hand, I am almost finished with Stargate: Atlantis (BOOOOOO!) and am already feeling Rodney withdrawal. I just....I love him. Lots. With all of my many Feelings and Thoughts. I always talk to my TV when I watch, yeah, but I stopped using his name at all like a hundred episodes ago (<--hyperbole to my left) and have started, at first unconsciously, referring to him primarily as "Babe." As if I was Danny and he was my Steve. I am H50-ing my love for him. It's crazy pants up in my head, is what I'm saying.

Look at this now:
ifeelbetter: (Default)
I saw two films today. Because I am no longer a teenager, I did not theater-hop. I paid for both. I think this justifies my upcoming rant tangent digression.

I will just start by saying that my hopes were moderately high for one and abysmally low for the other. Both surprised me greatly.

....suuuuspense.... )

In other news, I'm almost done with my syllabus for next semester. Highlights include: Exit Through the Gift Shop, My Fair Lady, George Carlin's "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television," and an article from Vanity Fair. Yes, my reading lists are eclectic. They are definitely that.

Plus, I'm trying to draft a proposal for a course for Comp Lit in the winter more geared towards my actual area of expertise, 19th century Japan-related texts. I'm thinking I might propose a course based on travel narratives on the far east, a sort of "orientalism" in practice sort of thing. That's still in the works.

Last note: did anyone see this week's So You Think You Can Dance? If you didn't, check this shiz-nit out:

Did you see that jump at 1:17? Did you see that??
ifeelbetter: (Default)
This is the latest installment in How Is That Bromance Class Going, Anyway? for those who are interested. Last episode, we were making the transition between the philosophizing and homo-eroticism of the idea of male camaraderie into a discussion of women, feminism, and how female friendships compare/contrast with all the male-dominated ones.

So I gave them this article by Jennifer Scanlon called "If My Husband Calls I'm Not Here": The Beauty Parlor as Real and Representational Female Space. I also gave them an assignment that should have been familiar since we've done similar things throughout the semester: they had to go find some instance of fashion in the "real world" and bring it into class for a quick close-reading. These presentations/close-readings were supposed to be 2-3 minutes MAX.

It was brilliant. It went EPICALLY over the time but it was so brilliant. The boys who caused a minor ruckus--a planned, calculated, ultimately productive quasi-misogynist ruckus--a week or so ago are still grappling with how "silly" fashion is and how "silly" women are for caring about it, right, BUT. These two boys--oh, this was brilliant--they each thought of presenting their own sneakers for their item of fashion. And they were competing brands of sneaker. The boys actually acted out--without any prompting from me--how heated and contentious fashion can be for men as well, even men who had already identified fashion as "silly" and "just for girls."

ANDANDAND. This anecdote completely got away from me in my enthusiasm... )

In short: I sometimes have glorious days teaching. I sometimes have these moments when I look at a student and I think to myself, "Yeah. I'd leave a planet to you, no problem."

To prevent this entry (and me) from seeming overly optimistic, I should conclude with this lovely piece of literary criticism from the same group of students:
Taking the violence against women one step further, and much more literally, it is easy to see how Eminem and Dr. Dre approach the line of homosexuality.

Ah. Right. Life is awful sometimes, too, and students can be the worst humanity has to offer as often as they can be the best. I almost forgot.

UGH papers

Mar. 18th, 2011 08:04 pm
ifeelbetter: (Dr Who - Angry Donna)
So--to be clear--I love teaching. I love teaching to the "whoa" degree that Mya once described in song. I love students: I love student who make epiphany!face in the middle of class, I love students who finally understand that questioning authority includes questioning me and then do it well, I love students who ask adorable things like, "but I can be a feminist even though I'm a guy, right?" and I love students who think--just think in general, in a non-specific way.

But I hate grading. I hate grading with the fury-ful intensity of a thousand suns. If I could, I would make grading robots do all that work so I could go back to pretending that students (a) care and (b) learn sometimes. Ignorance is bliss, you know, and I can't very well maintain that kind of ignorance when they are making me stare their pissiness in the face.

What is worst about grading (I think) is the Sisyphus part. You've spent hours and hours and hours correcting and carefully phrasing your criticism--and then they hand you the same damn bullshit in the next paper. I wish I had a dunk-em option. It would go like this: if their paper has the same mistake from last time, they get dunked in a vat of saltwater. Like, no matter where they are or what they're doing--when I read the sentence where they use to wrong format for citation despite the fact I marked it throughout the essay and in the end comment last time, they suddenly fall into a vat of saltwater. And then it happens again for every subsequent bad citation. I don't know if would be pedagogically useful per se, but it sure would improve my grading experience.

Or maybe I could just get a red button--like, one of those giant things they have in game shows--that I could slam forcefully every time they are appalling in writing and the lady would suddenly appear at their side and say, "You are....theweakestlink." That would also improve my grading experience.

I have provided visual accompaniment to this rage-filled flight of fancy:

In case it was unclear...that's "scream [is greater than] mouth capacity"
ifeelbetter: (Default)

I've had my students watch the 1939 film The Women for tomorrowtoday. I did a lot of prep work before hand--I had them read an essay about how to watch these old female friendship films from the 30s and 40s "against the grain" as well as "with the grain" to try to preemptively defeat sexism. I always have a voluntary screening when I assign a film--just to be fair--and the two boys who have been a roller coaster of almost-sexist thought throughout the semester came. It's usually a very small group, maybe four or five students. So it was the two of them and two girls I have developed pretty particular relationships--especially one who I had to have a quasi-intervention with to try to give her more confidence in speaking in class and thinking of her own opinions as worthwhile.

I suppose I should also note here that my teaching style fits easily with the kind of clever female student who's been quiet in other classes because she felt weird AND, paradoxically, boyish boys who like to show off. I don't know how this happens but it really is a pattern. So the two boys are problems but they have both made some significant intellectual strides in the class and occasionally quite surprise me by being suddenly (temporarily) open-minded. So.

But during the screening of this film...honestly, I think the best lesson I could possibly do would be if I could have recorded them watching and then de-constructed their comments (read "shred to pieces") in front of the class tomorrow. Today. Whatever. But I can't quite do that, I think. It would be (a) mean and (b) impractical. But, guys, they literally left like this:
Guy A: I have to go watch an action film after this.
Guy B: Yeah, we should watch the scene from [fill in random action movie] where [whoever] blows up the [whatever]--
And so on as they walked out the door. Trying to get rid of the girly germs basically.

I'm thinking I'll begin the class tomorrow by doing a list on the board of qualities in "manly" films and "chick" films. And I'll bet that there will be some de-valuing of overly complex plots, of women placing too much importance on gossip and things that will be classed as "silly," of fashion in general. And I will make the case that the same happens in the "manly" films--because it does, obviously, no one is more concerned with clothes than Ah-nold in Terminator--and they will walk away staunch feminists. All of them.

But, yeah. This class tomorrowtoday could either go really well or really badly.
ifeelbetter: (Default)

A friend of mine is teaching a class on global Alice in Wonderlands and asked me to step in on the final discussion of Spirited Away. My instinct is to focus on the two interludes in the onsen, the ones with カオナシ/No-Face and 川の神/the River God. She says they've been focusing on "nostalgia" so far--an important topic when dealing with the film, I think we can all agree--but I think it's fascinating to see these two scenes in parallel with each other. I think each one is suffering under the superficiality and greed of the contemporary, mundane society--川の神 is filled with pollution and the detritus of everyday life to the point of being an entirely different being, a "stink spirit," and カオナシ repeats, pro-forma, the 川の神's reward system without understanding or particularly caring about the value of effort-->reward that payment must represent and that's how he becomes the grotesque version of himself that Sen has to save by referring back to 川の神's gift.

Does this sound good? Anybody have any other thoughts on what must/must not be discussed with undergrads about this film? I'm tempted to talk about the train too--for a film that takes so strong a position about the past (v. the present/contemporary/urban), it's both surprising to a Western audience and super understandable for a Japanese one that the train would exist outside that moral judgment. Because the train is beautiful, right? It's lonely, it's isolated, but it's also beautiful. And it found a way to exist in the presence of water--water, which is almost always a symbol of what was lost by modernity in this film--simply and without malice.

Anything else that must be covered? *thinking*
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)
So: students. I loves 'em.

My Valentine's Day plan--because of course I am the type of teacher who has a Valentine's Day-specific class planned--was Tennyson's In Memoriam. I thought it might be too sad--dude has the market CORNERED on sad=love--but then I thought, "Whatevs, self. They're teens. They're, like, biologically constructed to dig Tenny's version of uber-emo love."

It turns out I was right! They ARE the target audience (when I selected only a few excerpts from the poem which makes me--a Victorianist through-and-through--blanch at the length) and they DID dig the emo. So do I, to be honest. I mean, dig it, peoples:
I hold it true, what'er befall,
I feel it when I sorrow most,
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Then never to have loved at all.

I'm not gonna lie--that has hearts around it in my Private-Students-Will-Never-See-Or-Mock edition.

Then, when I had them in groups to compare Tenny's section 59 ("Come Sorrow -- live with me and be my wife") with the Marlowe we read a week ago ("Come live with me and be my love/ and we will all the pleasures prove...") and THEN comparing both to how they themselves feel/act about love---theeeeeen I overheard a student say, "This is a lot of stuff about love." Another student responded, "I totally bet she planned this."

ifeelbetter: (Default)
So I ended up not canceling simply because I left the decision too late....by the time I had my mind made up to cancel, it would have been impossible to get the word out. Yes, I know. I am made of fail.

HOWEVER. Class was, I think, the best one so far this semester. I've been a bit more hesitant with this group than with my last just because those student evals sort of burned me at the end of the term. I just put a lot of me into that course last term and they--a slim minority, true, but a significant portion anyway--did not respond in kind. And I know that this is the curse of teacherdom--that we love and care and work and students barely know we're human. I know this. But. It has been hard to be as optimistic this semester.

So this class was the first time so far that the students were lively and engaged and so was I. It went brilliantly.

[The course is on Bromance and they were supposed to do presentations on poets responding to other poets--so Milton's poem about Shakespeare, Wilde on Keats, etc. Then we asked the obvious question--is it a "bromance" if communication can only go one way? Or if one of them is dead?]

So, yeah. Accidentally not canceling class was my best pedagogical move so far.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
So two things: (1) I am supposed to teach at 2:30 PM tomorrow despite the fact that we will be under a fuckton of snow and I work for a University that thinks closing would be, IDEK, a sign of weakness that would prompt the snow to kick it in the balls or something and (b) I haven't finished grading the batch of papers I was supposed to have finished by tomorrow--like, I've done 5 out of 18 and (iii) we're in the middle of a blizzard that should last two days.

OK, that list went a bit wonky. BUT. Let's weigh the pros and cons of canceling class, shall we?


- I'm a hard grader and a strict taskmaster to my students--much as I always love them--so it's always good to show mercy when mercy is there to be shown
- The quality of mercy is not strained
- See, I'm quoting Shakespeare, this must be the classier of the two options
- I am, however, also listening to Ride Wit Me--I think that may negate the classiness the Shakespeare quote bought me
- It's snowy
- Like, no joke. This is serious biznis snow. This snow is not fucking around.
- Ikindofneveractuallylikeleavingmyhouse
- This also means I could push back the essay due date for the students--this goes back to the mercy thing.
- Basically, I worry about my own fascist teacher impulses--I should counter-act fascist impulses whenever possible. Ergo, cancel class.
- They have group presentations tomorrow--half of them will be absent even if I have class.


- It's my classroom and my word is law. [<--Fascist impulse, right there, to my left]
- My schedule is so fricking tight this semester. I'm not sure we'll get through everything already. Can I spare a day?
- It's a bit early in the semester to be nice--I'm still instilling fear, right?
- Walking to school in the snow is good for me. It builds character. I know this because Calvin's dad would say so.
- Leaving my house is good for me too. Otherwise, I sometimes end up spending days on end on Stumble Upon.

I think I'm leaning towards canceling. I just got The Social Network in the mail and, by golly, I want to watch it and read Edna St. Vincent Millay all day tomorrow.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
As I mentioned in my last post, I am doing a Bromance class this semester. Every time I've tried to explain the arc of the class to people (ending with responses by women, female friendships, etc.), they always give me weird looks. And--despite being raised by a second-wave feminist who gave me kid's books by the Feminist Press (The Girl with the Incredible Feeling should be required for young girls, as far as I'm concerned)--I'm not sure what readings would work best for that.

The idea is to deal with exclusion--women being pushed aside for being extraneous to the more "worthwhile" friendships between men--but also the nuances of female friendships.

These are the readings I have right now:

in response to a male-poets-responding-to-male-poets section earlier in the course, a female poets version (included so far: Joyce Carol Oates on Emily Dickinson, Amy Lowell on Emily Dickinson, various poets on Sappho, Elizabeth Barrett Browning on L.E.L., Christina Rossetti on Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I so need more of these)
Gilbert and Gubar, The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination (Part I: Toward a Feminist Poetics)
Karen Hollinger, In the Company of Women (The introduction and possibly chapter 1, "Women's Film Precedents")
Both versions (the 2008 and the 1939) versions of the film The Women
Jennifer Scanlon, “If My Husband Calls I’m Not Here”: The Beauty Parlor as Real and Representational Female Space (from the Feminist Studies journal)
excerpts from fashion blogs and fashion magazines
Valerie Traub, "The Politics of Pleasure; or, Queering Queen Elizabeth"
The Children's Hour by Lillian Hellman

So, internet, I put the question to you: Can any of you think of something more central to the topic at hand than these? It doesn't feel right, I know that much. Maybe it needs more literature-literature? Or maybe I need some Simone de Beauvoir or Germaine Greer?

What made you guys feminists? Was it something you read/saw/heard or was it a chance conversation/ eureka moment?
ifeelbetter: (Default)
So my freshman comp class this semester is going to be following the theme of "bromance" ... in a very loose way. We're going to start with friendships between men -- essays by Aristotle and Emerson, close reading of Beatles lyrics, Wordsworth/Coleridge writing Lyrical Ballads -- and then move onto more homoerotic content (Stoppard's Invention of Love, Eve Sedgwick's Between Men, Oscar Wilde -- and theeeeen we'll finish the semester by looking how women can (or can't) fit into a schema that values male friendship so highly. I think it sounds fun. Hard, yes, but fun too.

I start on Wednesday. I am practicing my first day speech. I used Henry V far too often as a model for my speeches last semester. I just saw the NTLive Hamlet and am sorely tempted to do a "There will be a lot of essay but, hey, at least we're not dead, right?" sort of speech now. (<-- bad idea)

Also. My orals are on the 27th. Every time I remember that (every other second), I freak out not a small amount. So.

[[livejournal.com profile] ifeelbetter is freaking out right now, brought on by typing the word "orals." We will be back with our regularly scheduled programming after these messages.]

My feelings re:January:
ifeelbetter: (Default)
I just got back the evaluations from the students. There were some lovely comments--one student said they looked forward to coming to class each week, another said they pay more attention to details now--but there were a couple of really nasty ones.

One in particular...said I was "to cryptic in explaining college writing" which--so you can't spell "too." My feelings are not so hurt that you were lost. If you had felt all warm and swaddled by my class, I would be doing it wrong. So.

Ha. I talk the big talk and all...but I still am feeling a bit deflated by the whole deal. I mean, it's not surprising. I knew for ages that I had a couple of ornery students. And I tried to stem the tide of them believing me commenting on their rough drafts would be a magical cure-all--it wouldn't be. It would just mean ten times the work for me. So I could have told you every negative thing that turned up beforehand...it still smarts.

So I'll just be over here. In my corner. Licking my wounds.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
So this friend of mine quit our English PhD program last year and was accepted to all law schools everywhere and--draaaamaaaa--ended up staying here and going to ours. Which was awesome for everyone but nail-biting-craziness for like nine months.

I was having lunch with this friend on Thursday and she was like, "so how are you ending your semester?" I assumed she was talking about next Tuesday, the day I thought would be the end of the semester. And I was--not gonna lie--more than slightly freaked out by the fact that I hadn't thought of anything sufficiently hear-swelling. And she had just finished telling me about the soaring-rhetoric of all of her end of terms classes (because you can send your students out into the world to save bunny rabbits and starving salmon when you're sending them into LAW) and I love me some soaring rhetoric. I watch old West Wing clips. I have them favorited on Youtube. My brother knows that he can never piss me off enough that a West Wing clip on my facebook wall won't make it all better.

But, no, my friend's like, "No, silly rabbit, I meant today."

And I made this face:

Because that meant I had an hour to come up with Serious Business Lesson Plan instead of the Happy Funtimes Lesson Plan I was planning to use that day.

I ended up doing a Frankenstein's Monster (yes, people, Frankenstein is the doctor) Lesson Plan in which we (a) finished the presentations I had not allotted enough time for before, (b) workshopped all their projects despite how very much they didn't need it, and (c) had a nice little Henry V inspired moment of rhetorical whatnot from yours truly.

Yeah, you heard me. I use Henry V as my rhetorical model in all things.

"We few, we happy few who learned how to write basic essays in this course, we band of brothers..."

It is good stuff.

Only--unlike training people to save all the under-represented cactii of the world or whatever you learn in law school--I only had that one trick in the bag. So it was like a fast-forwarded version of Hal but with the volume turned waaaay down. He's all like "once more into the breach, my friends!" and I'm like, "you're going to end up writing maaaaaany more essays before we let you leave this college."

Not so soaring.

That is my story. I ended class like that. And then I said "Merry Christmas." pause. "And Happy Hanukkah." pause. "And Kwanzaa. And SOLSTICE AND ALL THE HOLIDAYS I LOVE THEM BWAHAHAHA."

ifeelbetter: (Default)
So....it turns out that English professors must turn into crotchety dinosaurs when presented with technology. This happened to me during the students' presentations yesterday and I had to try to work a projector. I actually used to be the kid who would jump up and help the befuddled teachers back in the day--and I love gadgetry. I really do. Sometimes I troll the apple website and/or store (in-person lurking is harder in person, though) just to play with all the pretty, pretty gadgets. But I was tucking books under the projector to try to make it level and being all "there's this cord thing here, I bet it should plug in somewhere else..." at the students and they were making the face I used to make at professors--the "isn't it cute you think you're part of the modern world" face.

It's not so much that it made me feel old--I'm really not and I don't feel like it--but it made me feel like I had gone into a transporter-malfunction-evil-goatee universe where up was down and Kirk just had to go shirtless and sport a hunting knife. (Speaking of age, that right there? That was a ST:TOS reference. Yes, I've watched that whole show. But that has more to do with geekery than age, surely? [Don't call me Shirley.])

BUT STUDENTS...THEY ARE SO CUTE SOMETIMES. On a scale of one-to-whackadoodle, how creepy is it that I often have this thought that it would be lovely to bottle the eau-du-adorbs of the students when they are Good to spritz around the room when I'm grading their Bad papers? THESE ARE THINGS I THINK IN A DAY.

PS - Can we talk cocktails for a New York minute? The New York Times thing about holiday drinks has me wobbly at the knees and no mistake. I would bathe in Bohemian Spritz. Not even lying. And, guys? A drink called Original Chatham Artillery Punch CANNOT BE BAD. It just isn't possible.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
So I finished my reading for my course on Monday afternoons -- the course is "Race and Transatlantic Print Culture in the Nineteenth Century" and it starts at 1PM and I am always in danger of oversleeping -- and I finished my reading for it at around 8PM today. On Sunday. And then I posted my response (due by midnight) and was Fully Prepared for tomorrow. This hasn't happened in a while.

I am a strange mix of super-duper proud to be Fully Prepared and SOSOso ashamed that I am super-duper proud of myself for something so basic. I, truly, might be the worst grad student of ever.

BUT. Can I just say to Supernatural (yes, I talk to shows as if they were people and my BFFs) that I heart you? Like whoa? I mean, you're still stinting on the pie. I think Dean needs some pie. He's having a rough couple of weeks, show, give him some freaking pie already. BUTBUT. The BABY. And Dean being the natural!dad type I/we/fandom always knew he would be. And Sam-might-be-kinda-evil is a deal this show has done before but, you know, I don't think I ever failed to fall for it. So. Good by me!

AND THEN GUESSWHATGUESSWHAT. Well, you already know, prolly, cuz I am ridonc-a-donc behind the times with SPN these days.



Or, you know, don't. It's totally up to you.

Resolution: Will catch up with Merlin. Soonish. Probably.

PS - I am picking out a topic for my next Intro to Comp class...someone suggested Bromance. I TOTALLY am considering it. I would have SUCH awesome stuff on that syllabus. Like...The Walrus & the Carpenter. And Sherlock Holmes. And Lyrical Ballads cuz STC and WW are the Bromance of Bromances. And the Beatles. It would be an EPIC class.
ifeelbetter: (Default)
There is an actual MASSIVE list for why someone else should step in and relieve me of my decisions today.


But--fellas--Supernatural is in season 6. I wish I could feel the joy that more time with SamandDean deserves and not be all worried about its future but I AM worried and this episode did not allay any of my fears. I feel like the show writers need to take a refresher course in the Winchester School of Emotions are for Sissies. Cuz, dudes, they were just chockablock with Manly Emotions. And no Cas to be all tilty!face at them so everyone knows Manly Emotions are siiiilllly. And they're supposed to RESIST Manly Emotions conversations, remember? And then only finally manage them in the middle of the dessert with beers and demon-guts all over their shirt fronts? Remember that?

And Dean didn't even eat a cheeseburger. Or pie. That makes me sad for him, show. We all know that Pie and Dean are the OTP in this show. We KNOW THIS. Why you gonna hate on the OTP?

OK. So I'm going to try another paper or two and see what inanities I write in the margins now.


ifeelbetter: (Default)

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