I’m glad I had the strength to move out. The physical act of moving and the prolonged lack of sleep have been challenging but there are whole hours when I feel like I’d move a thousand boxes for the freedom I have now. A friend is coming to visit me from Milwaukee over his spring break. I’m still pinching myself over this development. I’m certain I couldn’t get any luckier.
Today the contents of the joint savings account were divided in half. I opened my own savings account. As I go to U.S. bank to take out cash for my first month’s rent the teller must have read something about the situation. Not only did he explain to me what I needed to do to withdraw the money, he asked me if I wanted to apply for a Visa card. I told him that I’ve never had a U.S. credit card before—all of my accounts were joint with R. The teller was so kind to me that I swear I nearly cried. He even gave me his business card for any banking related questions I might have.
I’m going to be living on my own, without housemates or a roommate, for the first time in my life. I won’t have a car, but I do have my first U.S. credit card. It has a $3000 limit. I feel like a grown woman reconnecting with the young woman I was when I first moved to Windsor. We’re going to eat a lot of Annie’s mac and cheese together. She’s a very earnest individual.
I think my idea about a sociological aesthetics in composition studies was way too abstract even for me. I am thinking about why I’m even began revising the list: the goal was to include a neo-Marxist account of negative dialectics to my tweedy list on the rhetoric of dialectic. As I’ve been doing research on how to incorporate negative dialectics, I’m growing to think that the rhetoric of dialectic might not even be what I’m on about. I think my interests have more to do with the possibility of resisting self-improvement narratives, which of course assumes there’s a resistant self that chooses. I’ve begun reading an interesting article titled “Self Improvement” by Ian Hacking—all roads are leading me back to Foucault. Toes crossed that something fruitful comes of this detour.
I spent most of the day planning while trying not to freak out. The deal is that I’ve set a deadline for my comprehensive examinations. Now it’s time to buckle down in the midst of a lot of work. I am rebuilding my first list around the possibility of engaging a sociological aesthetics in composition studies. It’s really exciting for me to tackle this area and I can hardly wait to unpack all of the implications of said project.
Practically, I have to gather all of my readings in a box. Since there are two lists I’ll need to organize accordingly. The lists ought to have between 12-20 books and 16-24 articles each.
I was up late last night editing this little montage. It’s absurd and that’s why I like it. I came across the scene in an American vaudeville class I took this summer. I haven’t watched all of Flying Down to Rio (1933), but would like to. In the spring I’m helping put together a vaudeville exhibition on campus, which is what inspired me to revisit my notes on dirigibles, zepplins, and air travel.
The first week back to school started uneventfully enough. I’m enjoying the classes I’m teaching. When I’m not teaching I’m working on my comprehensive exam lists and paying attention to the birds. I need to get back into some kind of exercise routine with Erica. We were going to the gym together five days a week during the summer.
My sore throat has turned into a nasty flu. My forth of July plans are ruined. No bbq with friends and no party tonight. Just some cold medicine, a Forbidden Hollywood dvd, and my best friend Ryan. Amazingly he hasn’t gotten sick, which can only mean he has an immune system of steel.
The fair weather friend about whom I wrote earlier no longer has any reason to text me. I returned his camera and he returned my bike lock. It took less than a minute and now it’s done. What a relief.
I woke up with a sore throat today. It’s odd because nothing else hurts and I don’t even feel like I’m getting sick except for one nasty clot of phlegm.
Ptichka has another feather cyst and a vet appointment on Tuesday. This one is under his beak. I’m worried because I don’t know if there’s enough skin under his beak for the vet to put stitches in.
Why the video? It’s bloody hot in Tucson. And, I’m having a falling out with a friend who is best described as the fair weather type. By now I shouldn’t feel so taken when I realize that someone’s character is far less than I imagined it to be. If there’s such a thing as good friend karma I’ve earned heaps this time around. The task I’ve set for myself is to make more acquaintances because it’s too disappointing to invest in making a close friend only to find later that they aren’t really a friend at all.
Thanks, JG for telling me to download Lily Allen’s latest album. The video for Fear is wonderful.
In terms of what’s up with me, my legs have recovered from the 18 mile hike I did with Ryan on Saturday at the Grand Canyon. Yes, we finally did the hike we planned with Mel and Kieran. Since they’re travelling around the world right now, I’m sure they won’t feel even a pang of jealousy that they missed the most amazing scenic vistas imaginable.
My mom is back in the hosptial after falling and having another grand mal seizure. Hope springs eternal that she’ll actually take her seizure medication after this most recent injury. Perhaps the fact that she nearly lost an eye to the corner a dining room chair will be adequate motivation.