He changed.

He chose Chicago - He chose Us.

He chose...

madison.

Aw, piss.

Discussion was like pulling teeth today - Little suprise that I, of course, had to be observed by my instructor on the day I taught Kafka.

The students stared politely at me as I asked incoherent question after incoherent question. This culminated with a hurried interview with my Prof. who stated "It was a good enough section, especially considering the difficulty of the work". And they had to fill out evals today.

Ga. I hang my head in shame.

To Drink!

So I'm going to complain a little.

This has been a bad day.

It is currently 11: 29, but by the time I finish this it will probably be Valentine's day. This is particularly depressing as I had to send the boy back to Wisconsin for a six week torment in the wastes of Shawano - which is known for its excellent trapping. Yes trapping. Like trapping with steel jawed traps and snares and things. Like this is the recommended "fun" attraction to Shawano. He is noticeably unhappy about this, and I am unhappy about it, and I'm not even sure that he will get cell phone reception out there. This means 6 weeks sans boy starting on Valentines day. bleah.

To add to this, I just finished grading 15 student papers on the same 8 page work. Yay.

And my family's cat of 15 years - Shadow - had to be put to sleep on Friday. She could be nasty and unpleasant, but when you walked in she was always there waiting to say hello to you. She would stretch out in the sunshine on the porch and just bake (her fur was all black), then she would crawl up in your lap and spread herself out - the perfect, purring, heating blanket. We used to slide kitty-treats all the way down the kitchen so that she would go sliding after them on the linoleum. She was just as opinionated and stubborn as the rest of the family - which is probably why I liked her so much even when she was evil. I think the last time I saw her was at Christmas - I think I gave her some treats and she sat in my lap awhile. My dad is really sweet - he took her to the vet to have her put down and stayed with her until the end, petting her. She was really sick - she had been having problems for years and it was finally getting to her. We got her from the shelter when she was 2 or so, and I remember seeing her come home in a little cardboard box Sometimes she was really the only one in the house that I could talk to that wouldn't drive me insane with questions or badger me. She would just patiently sit and listen, and then purr and rub her head against my hand. "It's ok" she would say with her gestures "at least you don't have to live here all the time - hey, scratch the back of my head, will you?" She had big green eyes that looked red in pictures, and yellow at night - and we could never see her when we walked down the stairs. She fought with my mom over the corner seat on the couch until my parents finally gave up and got her a chair of her own.

It's a good thing that I have a strong sense of spirituality for all things- I don't have to know where she is to know that she is somewhere and happy. That cat had more class than a lot of people I have known.

Now I'm sitting here on my couch in my filthy apartment with all the detritus of a week-long abandonment of responsibility crying and planning how early I have to get up tomorrow to grade more papers.

Damn - Happy Valentine's day.

Borges

I would like to informally note that Borges is one of the more difficult things to teach.

I have an intro lit class, and was faced with the task of tackling "Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" today in discussion.

A sea of blank faces stared back at me as I found myself asking "so as an intelligent reader responding to the response that the narrator gives to Menard's possible intentional expression in these lines of the Quixote when we know that Menard doesn't actually exist - what can one say about Borges's project for this text?" And this was one of the less complicated sentences. The problem with multi-layered texts (especially satire) is that one must address all the layers in order to make any sense of it at all.

The beauty of my class is that they generally understood my ramblings and made nice work of the most complicated story that I have yet had to teach. I am so impressed with them - partially because I'm absolutely sure that I was not that smart as an undergrad.

Walking to the library with Kerri, I mentioned the multi-layered-ness of Borges and said (in what I find to be a very apt metaphor) that "reading Borges is like pureeing an entire dinner and drinking it in 5 seconds through a straw - then you have to somehow discern between the carrot, steak, and chocolate cake tastes, examining each one critically." She said that my analysis was a bit gross (admitted) and that she would liken it to fine wine. And that, folks, is the difference between my take on literature and everyone else's take on literature - they think of wine, I think of Hungry Jack.

In any case - today was also, inexplicably, spent at IKEA where Kerri and I helped Noelle to procure a fancy schmancy new dresser for her new apartment. This was followed by a frantic drive back to HP in hopes that I would make it before class. Ahhhh Chicago traffic.

Now I'm off to pick up Allyson for dinner and movie watching.

But enough of this bitterness.

I'm generally a very laid-back person. And I don't usually lose my temper - so to my readers I apologise for my outburst. Frankly, nerves had been twanging all week and I snapped. Thus, you all have a fine example of KT on a very bad day.

Beautifully, I got to spend the weekend with both my sister and the boyfriend, which means that stress drifted away in a lovely haze of good cookery and thrifting.

I haven't seen her since Christmas, and we had a blast - vegetarian indian buffet, Salvation Army, St. Vinnies, chicken and pasta, much liqour, etc. It was fun for the whole family.

Speaking of fun, we went to the St. Vinnies "Dig and Save" outlet in Madison. Folks, I have to say that if you are into the most hardcore of thrifting experiences, this is it. This is where they ship all the clothes that didn't sell (for one reason or another) in the other thrift stores. It's priced by the pound. So the thrift shopper walks in the store, approaches on of the 30 or so HUGE cardboard boxes filled to the brim with clothing and starts digging. There's also a junk room with furniture, glassware, pots and pans, and sundries. We walked away with a leather jacket, a North Face coat, an alpaca wool sweater, a shirt, a stuffed snowman (not mine), and a headboard for $8.00. This puts even my previous cheapness to shame.

It's a little psycho in there. People hover over their "lucky" box and fight over clothing - totally strange.

I would also like to indicate that my sister, despite her back pain, woke up early and made me pancakes. She is so cool.

Late Sunday evening I drove over to see the boyfriend, we ate dinner and I crashed at his place . Monday morning I left at 7am to drive back to Chicago and experience office hours that lasted, sadly, from 11am to 5pm (student paper rewrites).

and that's why I love him. (see previous comments)

for another example of a pointless blog - please see Jett. He sends his regards.

And if you would like to defend the pointedness of YOUR blog, you might want to send me a link.

Thanks,
KT