The Culture Channel

Seven double-spaced pages of pretentious BS about the creation of American racial and class consciousness against the framework of a designated "other," and the construction of white American identity via print media in two hours. With an introduction and conclusion.

I am the woman.

Now let's just hope that my history professor doesn't think I cheated and took extra time (no, really, sir, I can generate BS quickly. Online fandom has taught me how to meta and wank on a dime. And my prose is always laden with subordinate clauses and SAT vocab words).

And then I sent off my two discussion questions (generated without reading more than the introduction and conclusion of the book, but I don't think that's evident), a little late, but I can blame that on the midterm I emailed in thirty minutes before sending in the questions.

And then I proofread a friend's 31-page historiography paper (my sister is now giving random Air Force officers my email address as a paper consultant. We ought to charge money). Said Air Force friend can work with high explosives and fly an F-15, but he cannot use a semicolon correctly--it's always one word past where it should be, ex: "Friedman elaborates on Foucalt's theories however; he disagrees with him on the potential longevity of the Iranian Revolution." Clearly, the "blow shit up" part of the human brain is not connected to the "how to punctuate" part.

I am a whirlwind of academic industry. Hopefully, I can bang out a five-page literature review for archives class just as easily tomorrow night. If not, I'm screwed, since it's due Wednesday and I put if off to study for the history exam.

Drove up to DC this Sunday to meet blukitten, and we went to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and the Alberta, Canada cultural festival that was randomly taking place on the Mall. She saw the Hope Diamond, I cringed and averted my eyes from the giant sloth skeletons, we listened to Canadian folk music that sounded kind of like French bluegrass (which I pathetically attempted to translate, ex: "Okay, um, she remembers her lover. She hopes he remembers her. She is sad... um more about remembering. Something about her heart. Remembering again..."), and talked about grad school.

It's good to have at least one non-fangirl friend, to remind me that the sex lives of fictional characters aren't the only subject for conversation out there. just the best subject

Drove up to DC/College Park again Monday, to fill out grad-school and apartment related forms.

I still haven't seen PotC 2, but I look forward to it with pleasure. Soon, my pretties... soon.

I got accepted into University of Maryland's History department, too, which means I'll be doing the double degree program!

Yay!