- Part of the reason I have no time is because of The Dude. Which is good. But the rest of the reason I have no time is because I have a deadline for an invited article and finals and grading and a social life beyond The Dude, which I refuse to curb because ditching your friends when The Dude (or any dude) comes along is bogus. And it means that when you break up you have no fucking friends. Which really blows.
- All of the people who aren’t me should totally do the Moby Dick Book Club over at CPP’s Place, which is awesome, and I wish I could do the whole thing, but what with the first bullet, I can’t commit. And thus, I probably will just show up for the whole homoerotic business with Ishmael and Queequeg. Because that’s how I roll.
- Against all (very sound) advice from Historiann, and against the whole “I will not be your mommy because I’m a feminist and shit” deal, I cook for my students. It all started, what, maybe 4 years ago? Five years ago? I’ve never done it when it would do me any good (i.e., as a ploy to get better evaluations, as I’ve always done it after evals were submitted), and my reasons for doing it tend to be that I love cooking and that I rarely have an excuse to cook the stuff that I cook for students, because I live by myself. I don’t do it for every class – but I do it for a fair few of them, basically based on how much I like them and/or on how much I kick their asses. It’s not a “bring food for a celebration” deal: I am the only one who brings food. They are responsible to bring what they want to drink (with the caveat that no alcohol is allowed). Here’s the thing: I understand completely the reasons not to do this. In the past, I even believed in them myself. But you know, it’s nice. It’s a way for me to demonstrate my appreciation for the students, and I like that. And the culture of my institution is such that this is not a bizarre or un-done thing. And with my graddies, I prefer this tradition (I’ll bring food and you all bring a soda or whatever) than the tradition of having them to my house (which I am not comfortable doing) or of going to a restaurant and buying a round of beers (which I’m also not comfortable doing). And I prefer it to bringing in donuts or candy or some shit (as many of my colleagues do). So on tomorrow’s menu, for my freshmen, in which the first half of the semester is food-themed so it actually makes sense that we would eat at the end of everything, is a hashbrown casserole from The (unofficial) Hunger Games Cookbook, overnight french toast, and orange slices. YUM.
- No, I don’t let my students bring food. And it looks like that’s a Good Thing, as they might get me stoned. And, really, nobody wants to see that, especially since I developed the unfortunate side effect in graduate school with such… activities… of feeling like a fucking moron and being super paranoid that everybody *thought* I was a moron. That ain’t no way for a professor to exist in the world, yo.
- On the agenda for this week is the following: Breakfast-final-paper-turn-in with my freshmen, lunch with a colleague from another department, grading/writing article, trying to hide the giant zit on my chin, time with The Dude, Christmas shopping, cooking for my seniors (a LOVELY quiche about which I am VERY excited), mac and cheese for my ladies, cleaning up around my house, dinner with my ladies (where they will bring salad and dessert and alcohol, administering two finals, more grading and more writing, introducing The Dude to CC and her beau, submitting grades and more writing/polishing, hanging with former student… I don’t think I gave him a name… Let’s call him… My Personal Astrologer (MPA), and then maybe collapsing on Sunday.
- My little brother’s verdict on The Dude, when I gave him the information that he’s a Steelers fan: “That’s alright at least he likes sports which is a really good thing.” Note to self: my little brother has very different priorities from my priorities, although I do appreciate that he is not dismissing The Dude for loving a team that we were both born and raised to loathe. Also: WHY would it be a “really good thing” that a guy likes sports? I just don’t get it, but then, I suppose, I don’t have to. In other news, my brother then asked me for The Dude’s name and whether he had a Facebook account “so I can do my duty and get a little creep session in.” I love my little brother
- So I gave my intro to the majors class an extra credit question tonight that involved them responding to a passage from Jeffrey Eugenides’s The Marriage Plot about what English majors are. I think it’s no mistake that the ones who probably are going to change their majors after taking this course, or who are totally checked out and just trying to graduate, thought it was pretty much right on, whereas the ones who are really committed to the major and doing really well got really pissed off when they read it. Note: All I care about is how they justified their responses and how they related them to the course, so some of the bad students will get extra credit, and some of the good ones won’t. That said, if you respond to that passage with, “yeah, that’s right,” probably you shouldn’t be an English major. Just as Madeleine probably shouldn’t have been an English major.
- Back to bullet #2, only a scientist, and one at an institution that has a very low teaching load, would decide to start a Moby Dick reading club right fucking now. I mean, how can people read right now? Just HOW????
- So this nonsense has been going on with The Dude for about a month. That’s crazy. Especially as I continue to find him delightful.
Ok, enough. I need to go to sleep.