proustbot: (walk of shame/terror)
Update: I looked up the symptoms from overdosing on Dayquil (they are, in order: liver failure, followed by painful death) and then stopped drinking Dayquil.

As a consequence, my sinus infection has caused me to weep uncontrollably for the past 18 hrs, which is fun.

Yesterday, we administered a midterm, and ten minutes into the period, the fire alarm went off (for the third time that day). So we all trooped outside as my professor got more and more anxious. Finally, after about twenty minutes, she cracked, ordered the students to run back into the (lights-flashing, sirens-blaring) building to grab their exams 'n' stuff, and then go to the adjacent lawn to finish taking the midterm (with the concession that now they only needed to write one, not two, essays). Luckily it was a nice day, but understandably the students were frazzled by the experience, so I suspect we're going to be grading verrrry generously.

The fire alarm went off for fifty minutes before someone finally showed up to turn it off. He told the gossipy office ladies by the entrance that nobody in charge had known about the alarm; apparently a necessary phone call had not been made. In case of a real fire, I predict hilarity will ensue.

I have to administer a make-up exam this afternoon, so Dayquil-drinking may resume in a few hours.
proustbot: (the best hill driven by black wine)
I applied for a teaching fellowship that I did not get, due to a) internal shady politics and b) the fact that I literally cobbled together my syllabus in less than 48 hours ("No, no," I cooed to myself, "spending a week reading the Popol Vuh is a totally great idea.")

So there are many fine and legitimate reasons for me not to win this fellowship, and I am not (overly) upset about it. But! In my rejection letter, the committee suggested that the scope of my course was too broad (note: it was a thematic approach to a ubiquitous survey course), and that a better course would be a tiny, tiny sub-section that happens to be the focus of my dissertation.

ME READING THIS EMAIL: A PLAY IN ONE ACT


ME: ...

ME: ...

ME: what

ME: surely they just wrote this letter in haste and wanted to include some constructive criticism and saw the sentence in my letter where I described my diss

ME: surely they're not actually suggesting that I teach an undergrad survey on this tiny, narrow subject that has no primary sources translated into English or secondary literature of any kind because, hey, ain't nobody ever worked on it before? Hence why it's the subject of my dissertation?

Then I wrote a very bitchy email about the situation to my adviser (who hasn't responded yet, which is a bad sign), and then I showed my rejection letter to Wife E and the Dude, who were both horrified at this "advice" to an extremely gratifying degree.

In other news, I am sick and mainlining Dayquil.
proustbot: (Floreat Etona)
STUDENT: "So. Which one of us is your favorite student?"

ME: "Wha--?"

ADMIRAL ACKBAR: "It's a trap!!"

(In related news, I just spent two weeks riding herd on twelve undergraduate girls on a study-abroad trip through Brazil. No one died, and I did not kill any of them, although there were times when it was a close thing. I now look forward to returning to the dark, cool embrace of the library and having zero contact with humanity for the next three months as I prepare for my qualifying exams. Hurray!)
proustbot: (liz)
Z. comes tripping over to where we are drinking wine out of red Solo cups. "I was just talking to Prof. So-and-So and his friends," she said. "There's some dudes who just got here. They're wearing bow-ties. They brought their own beer cozies. Prof. So-and-So is mocking them."

N. looks over to the indicated bow-tie-wearing dudes, and his face falls. "But...those are my friends."

We all scuffed our feet on the carpet and changed the subject. And for the past few days, Z and I have been leaning over to one another and quietly drawling "But those are my friiiiends." And then we giggle.

In other news, I appear to have single-handedly introduced the expression "silver fox" into the regular discourse of my social circle. This pleases me.
proustbot: (clint eastwood)
PROFESSOR: "I'm like one of those awful movies that keeps moving back and forth, and you can't tell if it's a flashback or not. Think of me as someone who was traumatized by The Godfather: Part II."

The Quiet Gentleman and The Selfish Gene )
proustbot: (Mendou Shutaro)
PROFESSOR: "I haven't burned out yet. I'm still waiting for that to happen."

PROFESSOR: "It's actually my favorite echinoderm."

PROFESSOR: "A decent library is the kind that doesn't have skin magazines."

Shooting a bullet through the hood of a car )
she began to realize she ought to leave town. )
We shall lose one advantage of a man's dying )
without the smouldering eye and the silent shudder. )
proustbot: (liz)
"...he published under his own name a triad of virulently anti-Semitic books--Brazil, Colony of Bankers; The São Paulo Synagogue; and Roosevelt is Jewish, a book which enraged Ambassador Oswaldo Aranha in Washington. But Barroso was not moved by protest; he proudly presented each new volume, usually autographed in the Brazilian custom, to local libraries."
--Robert M. Levine, The Vargas Regime (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), p. 89.

And, of course, if isolated from their historical context, none of those book titles are particularly...meaningful. I can see Brazil, Colony of Bankers as a sweet book about financial advice in Rio de Janeiro; I can see Roosevelt is Jewish as a great name for a rock band.

(Google tells me that Roosevelt's Jewishness is a familiar part of anti-Semitic propaganda from the 1930s.)

Explosion in a Cathedral, Venetia, and Fire and Hemlock )
proustbot: (Liberty Leading the People)
PROFESSOR: "He's one of the few people to be translated into English, if that's any sign of grandeur."

PROFESSOR: "I'd pick him just because he had a wonderful moustache. It's one of the best I've ever seen."

PROFESSOR: "It was something like a midlife crisis. Red sports car, woman half my age -- oh, I know, I'll found a new regime!"

The Crack-Up, Northanger Abbey, and Libby's London Merchant )
proustbot: (Mendou Shutaro)
STUDENT: "So what happened to the emperor? We sort of skipped over that period."
PROFESSOR: [smiling] "He died."
CLASS: "..."
PROFESSOR: "I'm sorry, you've caught me in a jocular mood. It's the end of the semester!"

Today I cooked long-grain rice and read baaaad paperback romances. Studying will start tomorrow, my dear superego, I pinky-promise.

The Secret Hour, Summer Lightning, and War and Peace )

Q Unit, "We Will Rock You In Da Club" (Queen and 50 Cent -- together at last!)
proustbot: (Default)
PROFESSOR: "And then there was this time I was stoned in New Haven and spent the night talking to a goat."

STUDENT: "Are there goats in New Haven?"

PROFESSOR: "Well! Years later, I asked my friend, 'Do you remember that time in New Haven where we were stoned and I was talking to that goat?' and he said, 'What goat?'"

STUDENTS: [nervous laughter]
proustbot: (clint eastwood)
PROFESSOR: "I'm serious. You know I never joke."

PROFESSOR: "Not that I have any prejudice against the Portuguese, but I kind of think of them as a cancer on the indigenous people."

PROFESSOR: Any questions?
STUDENT: So, do you think it's arrogant for mankind to think they can pinpoint the exact date of creation?
PROFESSOR: ...Any questions about Tolstoy?

Song of Roland and Mistress Masham's Repose )

And I'm on page 272 of War and Peace. Jeff is on page 600-something. MUST READ FASTER.
proustbot: (clint eastwood)
A few weeks ago, we managed to sidetrack our Amazonia professor on the subject of The Mission and other movies:

PROFESSOR: "Of course, it has two of the finest actors in the English-speaking world: Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons."

PROFESSOR: "I like to see films too. I don't show them in class because that would be too fun."

[On Nastassja Kinski]
PROFESSOR: "She is still the second most beautiful woman in the whole world. ...I'm a married man, you know."

[upon discovering that some students had never seen The Godfather: Part II, he went on a sarcastic monologue about how we obviously never see films because we're so devoted to studying for his class.]
PROFESSOR: "But aside from me, there are movies. And some of them have De Niro!"

PROFESSOR: "And this was when De Niro was extraordinarily attractive. If a man can be attractive. And I think he can!"

Cousin Kate and Tom Jones )

Next up: War and Peace.
proustbot: (liz)
I've reached that inevitable stage in the semester where I've completely sabotaged my future and might as well leave school to become a bag lady.

(On the plus side, I've finally figured out how to incorporate Elvas' Soto into my paper. Three cheers for the doomed sinner!)

The only thing that can lift my spirits is The Great Outdoor Fight.

And paperback novels.

Blood Pact, A Civil Contract, Blood Debt, and Jane of Lantern Hill )

(You know my life is upside down when my job is going okay, but I'm screwed in regards to school.)
proustbot: (Default)
When I put snarky asides in my high school busywork, my teachers would write "What?" and "Try to take this seriously!" in the margins of my paper.

When I put snarky asides in my college busywork, my professors draw smiley faces and exclamation points.

If this trend continues, I'll be getting gold-star stickers in graduate school.

In other news and despite all evidence, I read real books too, I swear to God.

The Sherwood Ring, Across the Wall, and Dealing with Dragons )

I'm also reading a slew of history books. Normally I'd make some crack about their dry and dusty contents but...really, they're not dry enough. More footnotes! Fewer generalizations! My expectations are not high, history books, but you are failing to meet them.

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