i went from 150 to zero in like an hour. i refuse to achieve ever again.

Friday the 7th at 11:23am I completed the final requirement for my Master's degree in English Literature.

Just so we're clear: 24 credits, a stack of seminar papers, a foreign language proficiency exam, a twice-submitted qualifying paper, and a nervous breakdown (or three).  Two semesters.
I don't ever want to achieve again.

Also I had big plans for a year-in-review reflective blog post.  I left some space for major revelations and cute jokes and some hardcore goal-reviewing.  There were goals!: for this year, this semester, and for life in general that maybe I achieved and maybe I drop-kicked to the "idealism is for losers" curb.  There were fears I had that I hoped to overcome but managed to complement with additional fears.  And reckless bone-headedness. YES.

I assumed I would learn things about life in   academia, life in corporate America, life as a   mostly-grown adult, and how to negotiate my post-coital relationship with a pretty significant identity-shaping period in my life.  [Ed. note: still learning]

I survived crisis after crisis after self-induced crisis.  I celebrated some things.  I grudgingly accepted some things.  Some things I ignored and hoped they would just go away. They got worse.

Sometimes I was right. Usually I was wrong.

But mostly, I thought for sure I would be a different person today than I was in August of last year.  I was really looking forward to who I would be in May of 2010 and spoiler alert: I'm still me!
It's a little disappointing.

So, probably I should regroup.  Probably I should stop and think and spend more time on me and less time on "things I do."  Ultimately I am more than the bullet points on my resume or the statuses I update or the notches on my academic belt.
Probably it is time to start over (again).

... Right?  Okay.

But I think instead I will be sleeping through June.

But in universally proud news: Cheers to me for wrapping up grad school in Philadelphia in one whole (almost whole) year!

MY LORD COULD THAT HAVE TAKEN ANY LONGER

46 DAYS LATER:

For the LOVE, Sharon.

and THAT, friends, is my last hour of required coursework. pheewwwwww

Overheard in 1138, Spring 2010

professors are uncensored people, too

1/19/10
"I think all English professors are frustrated actors." soulmateprofessor

1/16/10
[Classmate: "So I had an interesting idea about social work in --"]
"Oh GOD. Save me from another 'interesting idea.'" ladycrushprofessor

1/26/10
"It's Tristram fucking Shandy." ladycrushprofessor

2/1/10
[Following a rousing performance of Finnegan's Wake:]
"Part of my senility is that I find myself singing in more of my classes. " ancientwakeianprofesser

2/16/10
"God, you guys.  You don't want to fuck with someone you don't like.  Well, you probably have, but ultimately ... it's just not good." ladycrushprofessor

3/23/10
"OMG RUDE." ladycrushprofessor
"It draws in many ways on Emerson. Not that that's that important. Just to let you know that I know that." ladycrushprofessor

4/2/10
"It was, like, junior year in high school and I remember telling my mother: 'In the case of a nuclear event, we should drive toward San Francisco.  It is best to be atomized." clarkekentprofessor

4/13/10
"You know it's art. Because you can't understand it." ladycrushprofessor

4/19/10
"I have a tendency to be a latent heterosexual. We all have our hang-ups." ancientwakeianprofessor

4/26/10
"And now I'm going to say something positive about Christianity. 'Why would I do this?' you ask... Are you ready for a gross image?" -ancientwakeianprofessor

4/27/10
"It's the end of the semester! Thank GOD. I need to retire." ladycrushprofessor

this is what the end of the semester looks like.

Donovan: "Well, you understand that we've reclassified the Master's paper as not another hurdle, but another turtle."
Anne: "A turtle?"
Donovan: "A turtle.  They hand you another turtle and you're expected to follow it around, figure out where it's going.  What kind of turtle it is.  It barely moves.  And if you push it too hard it just curls up into its shell and doesn't do anything which is worse than barely moving.  And of course you have five other turtles all in front of you and you have to follow all of them around but this turtle ..."
Anne: "A turtle."
Donovan: "A turtle."

I AM IN FACT GOING THERE.

You guys there are SIX EPISODES LEFT and I am required by law to post AN SINGLE homage to LOST before the finale!
Blame Landon: he Sawyer-homaged on my FB wall and I am not strong enough to resist that hot piece of dimpled Southern con man.
[Above link pretty much NSFW.]
[SKate. It's happening. Stop denying it.]

Out of respect for the English-major-ness of this blog I choose:  

SAWYER'S BOOK CLUB: he's pretty well-read actually

Happy LOST night you guys!

We were so innocent in Season 1. Do you guys even remember Season 1?

Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.
Grown man.
No shame.

Arguably more island-emo than the Ayn Rand Fountainhead moment is the classy set of Buddy Holly glasses.
Team Sawyer.

John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men and yes: the man is in JAIL and READING instead of scrapping for cigarettes or working on his Michael Jackson.
TEAM.
SAWYER.

Adolfo Bioy Casares's Invention of Morel. Hey you guys: remember when I was totally on point re: parallel universes?   WIN.
(LITERATURE. IT IS USEFUL.)

A

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle.
Guys don't interrupt a homie when he's READING.
ACKRITE.

RICHARD ADAMS' WATERSHIP DOWN!
SO! MANY! BUNNIES!

And finally GET. ON. THE. SKATE. TRAIN.












This has been your LOST post! YOU ARE WELCOME!

LIFE-ALTERING STANDARDIZED TESTS

So those PRAXIS tests?  One of which I am pretty confident I failed miserably?  The other of which I was not entirely sure I would score as well as a fifth grader on?

ElemEd Content: PASSED.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

A) My numeric score not only PASSED but has an (E) tacked on.  I thought that was weird.  I checked it out.  Evidently my score is high enough to qualify for "Recognition of EXCELLENCE!!1!1":

Excellent. I am JUST AS SMART as a fifth grader even if I remain unclear regarding Benjamin Franklin's Presidential status (Not a President?  French prostitutes.  Bifocals. The Constitution? Bennies? Printing presses).

B) Virginia's standards for passing are lower than Louisiana's. I am excellent bistately.

C) PS. I'm an English major, which may or may not be widely known among my reading public.  I also hold a Bachelor of Sciences degree because that is cooler than Arts (OR BUSINESS OH SNAP) and it is a magnificent piece of art patiently waiting for a living room couch over which to be prominently hung and duly worshipped.  Not that I use the Sciences part: pretty sure I'm better at English anyway.

Or used to be.  Um, I scored third-lowest on the language arts section.  Just about math level, in fact.  There are people in this world who remember teaching me how to SUM NUMBERS in Physics sophomore year so what the what is that about.

I have this dream of one day being handed a PhD eventually someday, and according to ETS it should be in Chemistry.  Or Physics.  OR SCIENTOLOGY.

Which is great because women in the sciences get paid like a billion dollars a year, right?

chocolate. bunnies.

Home to that seductress Commonwealth for Easterings!

So, um, about yesterday, Commonwealth.  I'm sorry.  I was little harsh, but you understand.
You're beautiful.  You have Trader Joe's wine.  Thomas Jefferson. 13 electoral votes.  The Beach. Mountainous mountains.  Colonial living.  Skyline Drive.  Peach, Strawberry, and Neptune festivals.  The #6 public university in the nation.
The key to my heart.

You seduced all my friends and I got emotional.  I'm sorry.  But really I lessthanthree you and should say it more often.

Plus, none of those Virginia-bound homies^max have ever had crawfish étoufée (much less REAL crawfish étoufée) (in S.LA) (during Mardi Grass '11? DIANADANetal??) and oh man does THAT day sing of bells and rainbows and joyous whistles.

So, Virginia, to conclude: I'm thrilled to see you this weekend and we can make up over gorgeous weather and chocolate bunnies!  I forgive you already!

TO VIRGINIA!!

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." - Psalms 51:10

OKAY GUYS WTF JUST HAPPENED.

So let's make a couple things clear.

I am SO PROUD of my various friends and their many impressive accomplishments.  CONGRATULATIONS, FRIENDS!  You are doing AWESOME THINGS with your lives and I love visiting you at your respective jobs and super-kitsch homes and witnessing the GLOBALLY-SIGNIFICANT THINGS you are doing EVERY DAY!

I am incredibly fortunate and deeply humbled to be counted among your homies^max.  Please let us be friends forever, through life's many trials, tribulations, joys, and triumphs because FACT: you are the best, friends!!!

But I do have a request.

An Open Letter to All Y'All:

STOP BEING FABULOUS IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA.

I am aware!: It is WELL-KNOWN and DOCUMENTED that NoVa/DC headlines as

"Hittin' It One More Time: WM Tribe and the Post-College LOLZ!"  

We all knew this!  It was kind of a joke but not really because it was true!  There is an IKEA and the White House is nearby and all your friends live there and it's not selling out at all!!1!

But holy snapcrackles has the gauntlet been thrown.  The last people in the world I was confident were remaining outside the mesmeric pull of the Beltway have been seduced by its animal magnetism.  It is OVER, you guys.  The last remaining staunch defenders of "Life DOES EXIST outside 495 you guys gosh" have suddenly and mysteriously LOST THE BATTLE.  Because of "JOB OFFERS," "LAW SCHOOL OPPORTUNITIES," and other "MADE UP THINGS."

Everyone but I mean everyone has succumbed and THIS "adventurer" is moving 1300 miles in the opposite direction.

What the WHAT.

So, yes, I am betwixt a moment in my short life in which I can spend a breakneck academic year in an urban-and-intimidating city earning an MA in Literature and spend it I will.  

I am at a junction in my incredibly-too-short life where I can accept a temporary and thrilling job offer across the country and ACCEPT IT I SHALL.  

I am STOKED to be young and flexible and BOTH OF THOSE I SHALL PROUDLY BE

BUT HOWEVER.
YOU. GUYS.

Do I miss the Commonwealth?  IS THAT A RHETORICAL QUESTION BECAUSE IT IS STUPID.

Do I miss my friends and our marathon coffee dates? LOST parties? Sunken Garden Streakings?  All-you-can-drink Mimosa Brunches?  Blatant people-watchings/gossipings (busted and I thank you again)?  Skydivings?  Circlings?  Mo-ho bondings?  Heated and at times inappropriate political "debates?"  Drivings to the Beach on a random Wednesday?  ODB parties?  Massive home-cooked FAILs?  Too many cocktails too many nights of the week?  Fetishings of colors? 
(YES I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU)

Do I feel a DEEP AND UNABIDING REMORSE that everyone BUT I MEAN EVERYONE I know and love has chosen to migrate to/within the greatest state in the Union and leave MY "adventurous" ass to fight it out in Alligator Country FOR THE NEXT TWENTY FOUR MONTHS?

I REFUSE TO DIGNIFY THAT WITH A RESPONSE.

Friends, you are lame. Except that you are so fabulous with your job offers and your law school offers and your general. awesomeness.

#gradschool #itistheworst #imissyouguys #stopmovingtonova

your burning questions: ANSWERED TODAY

If you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an e. ... It makes such a difference.  (Montgomery 35)

I caused Sara of "This paper is only ok" fame minor stress during the introduction portion of her housewarming.  For this I apologize!

It is true.  There is a discrepancy between what I introduce myself as and what I'll answer to.  I will address this now:

I introduce myself as "Anne" because that makes the most sense.  Right? Right. I have at least four different names and two most common names and one abhorred name and I see where this might be confusing.
So "Anne" it is!

Wherein lies the rub.  I do have several names and happily answer to them because I LIKE them.  Not to mention "Anne" has two syllables and peeps be struggling with that all the time.  (Ed. note: Two.  Count 'em.)  Therefore I answer the "what do you want to be called?" question kind of a lot and it is time to settle the debate:

I don't really mind any of my various names!  

Actually I kind of like having different names with different people!**

If you like "Anne with an e" I only ask you pronounce it correctly (it has an E you guys) and THAT is the full list of my demands.  I hereby cheerfully request you select a name that floats your personal boat and row with it!
The most common* as of 5:04pm today are: "Anne," "Annie," and "AnnieAllen."  Pick one.  Mix and match.  Enjoy!
(*"T. Anne" if you are reading in Nashville)
[** It is like ESPIONAGE requiring many ALIBIS]

OR:

You can shun convention and totally make something up! Because that is how my ladycrush professor solved this problem months ago. 

On the first day of class I like to establish myself as kind of a big deal with a snappy "Anne, please, with an e" right off the bat.  My ladycrush professor heard "Anne with an e" on day one and has called me "Annie" ever since.
I think in her head (and in her comments on my papers) it is definitely SPELLED "Anne with an e" but out loud is PRONOUNCED "Annie."

Which is both awesome and accurate. And I support this.

So in conclusion my one request is that you respect the e.  Cause precipitation in your general vicinity with the e.   And if that means you spell "Annie" "A-n-n-e" I am down with that because I adore you guys.

Familiar-name question: DONE.

Though, um, I do realize this leaves the "Anne is actually my MIDDLE name" question unanswered.  That will remain unanswered but I leave you with this

Name-Related Anecdote

in its stead!:

In the PRAXIS session last weekend the roll was called, as 40 people in the same room were taking 8 different paper tests and these things should be official.  The guy gets all the way to my test section and through a billion and three names before stumbling on:

" ... Ta ... Ta-MY-yah? Ta-ME-yah? my-YAY? ... Allen. T. Allen."

uuuughhhhhhhhhh "... Sure. Here."

SOME people think my poetry is boring. THOSE people can suck it.

She stood, considering.
And everything living drew away.
And the grass itself shrank from her feet.
And the sky might have darkened but she wouldn't have known
As she stood.

A world apart stretched before and ominous and promising and
unprecedented.  Rooted to the ground she knew she stood.  There was much to consider.
Regardless of what she chose she was choosing.  And either choice was hers to make and either choice she was choosing and whether she chose
or not
she had a choice.
Did it matter what she chose or did it matter that she chose?
Maybe she was chosen.
The sky rumbled overhead and whether it was predestined or not
she looked --
Just ahead, the choice.  Just behind: choice.
Is it still a choice if one has to choose?

In a lightning flash she chose to reach and she reached through the dark and the unknown and she reached for Knowledge in a world apart in a world her own in a world for Knowledge and she chose it.

And He followed her anyway.

women's herstory month you guys

but
je ne suis qu'une machine if new women
will perform an integral function in that mission to
never cease the inventing and the soliloquizing
really challenge where possible and unattainable hash their lines
truly and staggeringly beyond the pleasure principle just to
be revolutionary in their own time and manner and
free

i realized today that yesterday was the ides of march and i was like "oh. oh, that makes so much sense NOW."

Meltdown 2010: This Time It's Personal

I will say the following negative things about meltdowns.
- They suck.
- They suck most in public. (Like the bathroom of Anderson's 10th floor.)
- It takes a pretty freaking awful day to get THIS heart-of-solid-ice-cold-steel English major to A) cry and B) cry in public.  
So I lost it.  I completely melted down at 10am on the Ides of March and it was in public. 

I will say the following positive things about meltdowns.
- It was a little bit awesome to give up for a second.  I was not aware of how tense and high-strung and totally wiped out I am until it was THAT overwhelming.  And it was just the tiniest bit great to stop trying to solve everything and just deal with life's overwhelmingnesses.
- People will bear-hug you the moment they see your face post-meltdown. You don't even have to ask. It just happens. And then you feel better.
- People will also offer help, immediately.  In the last two days I have had offers for help with my assignments, readings, and physical assaults of the responsible-for-my-meltdown parties.  And let me be the first to state: having others to help with your general ass-kicking is priceless.

It is too long a story to detail why I was not at all emotionally capable of handling Monday's events.   I pride myself on my ability to generally kick ass and take names, but my WORD has this semester been spirit-crushing.  It's just been pretty, um, awful.  For many, various reasons and in several different ways.  Anyway.
The past few weeks have been rough and I was already in an emotionally not-great place and did not need a major thesis-related crisis to contend with at 10am Monday.  But the post-meltdown fallout has been kind of nice.

My new (as of 3pm yesterday) soulmate professor said the following beautiful things: 

This is exactly what you're going to do. Everything is going to be okay.

And proceeded to tell me exactly how to solve all my life's problems.  

I was like "SNAPS.  A whole big world of 'People Who Will Help You!' exists on the 11th floor of Anderson. Right above that special circle of hell reserved for general graduate student torture by hobbits and minions."  

Resolved: my first-born child will bear Soulmate professor's name, with pride.

Additionally, I decided to strip any and all self-pressures for this week.  It is a novel concept: I will consider this week a success if I am still alive at the end of it, and then I will celebrate being me. And still alive. 
Surprising finding: you can't help but have a great day when "success" equals "JUST REMAIN ALIVE."

Also yesterday afternoon I put my hair up in the library and someone noticed my tattoo: "That's so cute! Nice to have a reminder, too LOLZ" 
I eventually realized by that she meant "...that the sun still exists in the middle of this torrential downpouring rain we've had for four days, freaking hurricane out there, what's the deal" but I first took it to mean "...that there will be optimistic sunshine-y days again soon SO CHEER UP YAYZ" 
So of course I was all "Thanks LOLZ!" and whistled a little "The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow" because I will make adorable "Annie singing 'Annie'" jokes like that.  Dork. 
But you know what?  It did.  The sun did come out today so you guys can take that little gem to the bank.

And as a final bonus: the universe gave me a wonderful present all wrapped up in a little bow just because it "heard [I] was having a bad day." Oh, universe. We're so good together.
Behold Carlton Cuse's latest tweet:

(VERY MINOR SPOILER.) Tomorrow's episode of LOST? "Recon."

It's a Sawyer episode and he has sex. Need I say more?

NO, SIR.  That will SUFFICE.

 Honestly, I do not deserve such nice things. Well, except the day after I totally lose it and need special attention like whoa so
THANKS UNIVERSE

my ladycrush professor likes found poetry. i just want her to LOVE ME

"when" it "no longer 'defines who you are' it's time"
 "under 'occupation' i wrote BEING ME"

i had known
i had known i had known

it did not exist

i can breathe, i can laugh, i can be, alone

i am free i am free
i am free

"anything might happen when womanhood has ceased to be a protected occupation"
a candle heating up in a dark room
"the history of men's opposition to women's emancipation is more interesting perhaps than the story of that emancipation itself"

it's kind of a long story since i haven't been talking about it

black takes the pawn

why keep doing it, if it hurts

we let it hurt til we're exhausted, right

i keep staging these conversations in my head

i do not have an original story

this is not news

"i mean this is hazy territory especially now"

i'm just out there today and really appreciate someone grounded

act iii. do tragedies come in five acts?

still awkward - i kept asking stupid questions
on the one hand i'm totally nostalgic

one day it won't matter at all

still working on it though

"if we have the habit of freedom and the courage
to write exactly what we think"

"the dead poet who was shakespeare's sister will put on the body
which she has so often laid down"

i think i can do anything
everything is possible

"maybe now is my time."

i have to send in a headshot with my resume. considering skydiving photos, which are definitely representative of my awesomeness

My upcoming new life in Baton Rouge is trumping my real "I-should-probably-consider-getting-some-coursework-done" life in Philadelphia.
- Energetic (/hyper) SoLaTFApage here

- June 7th is Day One of Induction.  Recall WM's Orientation Weekend 2005 -- TFAInduction 2010  is rumored to be four times that intense and twice as humid.  Plus all the monumental things I have to do between today and then that are generally associated with astronomic life changes [like getting hired, moving halfway across the country, checking out what this "teaching" stuff is, acquiring Louisiana license plates for Christine, learning to be friends with under-12s...

[LIFE'S GREATEST LESSONS].

- Today I spent two hours digging through TFAresources, completing checklists, and writing a brand-new sexy "YOU WANT MY AWESOME TEACHING YOUR KIDS" resume.  Also: I have a resume.  It contains two universities and a real job and is printed on classy paper and I am framing it tonight.

- Mostly I look forward to the excellent things to come.  I am 85% sure that in the next 27 months I can knock off #s 8, 9, 13, 20, and (IF ALL GOES ACCORDING TO MASTER PLAN) 22 on my life's to-do list.  Meaning:

• 2012 is looking pretty good for an irrelevant, unopposed "run" [#6] for the East Baton Rouge Parish Recreation and Parks division vacancy. YES.  Or the Libary Control Board? But that's a four year term and I am so not ready for that level of committment.
• But I could absolutely commit to Bobby Jindal's teleprompter. 
• Do you think the Landrieu family needs a dogwalker?  
• VOTING. PROGRESSIVELY.

The TFALouisiana combination is ripe for political opportunity.  I. am. excited.

- Also: SoLaTFA offers tuition waivers for graduate classes at LSU.  I wonder if I can complete a PhD in two years (Spoiler alert: EASILY)

- This morning during my four-hour attempt to PRAXIS study I enjoyed a solid hour reading up on volcanoes.  Volcanoes are awesome.  Learning about volcanoes is awesome.  Suddenly I realized: teaching elementary school means teaching elementary school SCIENCE.  SCIENCE IS AWESOME.
And history, and social studies, and civics, and even basic mathematics before it gets all theoretical with imaginary numbers and "proof" and the value of "k" in an elastic potential energy problem.  All awesome.
And especially I love elementary school-style bakingsoda&vinegar volcanoes.

You guys.  Kindly plan to come read Beverly Cleary to my class, learn double-dutch at recess, and participate in messy if enthusiastic science fairs.  I promise in return I will introduce you to crawfish étouffée, riverboats, and live jazz and it will be awesome.

WINTER. This is not a drill, you guys.

[human experience = people^relationships + relevance(real life)] < the internet.

This is what a graduate English student looks like:

FIN.

good to see our gridlocked House moving forward on such significant legislation

My biffles^max has this uncanny ability to solve life's little mysteries:

Because of course they should.

i hate fish. i loathe, detest, abhor, and hate fish.

Frankenthesis.

Due March 5th. Or, 1.14wks from today.

Which is my own fault. Five weeks ago I peered at my March calendar, puzzled over conflicts, brooded over solutions, whipped off my spectacles and exclaimed

NO WORRIES: I will turn in my thesis ten days early! All my problems: SOLVED. Pat on the back, you overachieving, organized, academic magician!

Barking. Mad.

let's talk about some things.

One week later, my perspective is altered. MILDLY.

February still blows. Grad school is still sadistic.  My ladycrush professor still hates me, but has agreed to tear me a new one privately during office hours versus publicly during class.
It is an improvement.

TFA sent me this in the mail:

I'm sorry, I should be clearer:

Well, helLO, 704ish pages of reading plus scored exercises plus DVD viewage to complete before June 1. That is 40+ hours of sleep I will not be enjoying to squeeze you in around my real, actual, degree-bearing work.
ADULTHOOD.


I did in fact get paid, but lo and behold, my latest paycheck is already a day late and rumored to arrive next week.  My understanding is that the delay is "not really [Bosslady's] fault," as the checks are telegraphed to a printer in Bangkok, set aboard an RMS steamer on her maiden voyage round the North East Passage, and PonyExpressed from an apothecary shop in Anchorage before reaching my hot little Philadelphia hands.

As you do.

But thankfully, magically, this past weekend I attended my

FIRST!

WEDDING!
EVER!

and hot golly was it a beaut. As of Operation: NoLa Wedding, Richard has officially doubled his number of awesome cousins and it was THE BEST OF TIMES you guys.

I kind of desperately needed a trip and this was the one to take.  Not only is Philadelphia's gray/freezing/dismal February grating my nerves, but I am snowed under with work and there is no end in sight.
Grad school.  It will eat your face.

So I bought a ticket to the warm/sunny/happy subtropics in December and have been literally counting the days to First Ever Wedding Bonanza since.  Just imagine: the last time I had crawfish étoufée was in November, you guys.  NOVEMBER.

And! this wedding fell one week post-Mardi Gras and two weeks post-NoLaSaints SuperBowl Fantastical Miracle of the Century.  Yes: this wedding was EXACTLY that awesome.

I do apologize for the awkwardness of the pictures [we were on the second floor of the jazz hall (um, this wedding was in a jazz hall. HOW COOL IS THAT)], but a few gems include:

This jazz hall. It had all kinds of a major tree growing right through the middle. Wicked awesome.

This New-Orleanian performance art piece.  (Like everything else Louisianan,) New Orleans boasts its own wedding culture. This is a brass-band-led "second line" (which according my research derives from also-NoLa-specific funeral processions. Circle of life?).

And this live brass band.  Note the second line getting the party started on the right.




Live music.  Finger foods of outrageous deliciousness. Open bar.
WEDDING. CAKE.

Absolutely worth jet lag, zero sleep, and falling drastically behind on my (thesis) (papers) (reading) (life) work.
Vacations taken irresponsibly in the middle of the semester: RECOMMENDED.

DRAMZ.

Grad school hates me. My job hates me. Philly weather hates me.

FEBRUARY IS THE WORST.

You guys, it is getting challenging over here.  I pride myself on my ability to overcome adverse conditions for the sheer joy of rubbing it in peep's faces but come on.   This is madness.

My professor I have a ladycrush on who is also my advisor can't stand reading what I write. This would be deal-with-able if I attempted to write anything outside critical analysis BUT I DID NOT.
This is my specialty. This is what I was accepted into grad school for doing well.
I AM PRETTY OKAY AT THIS.

Today I learned I don't know how to use words.  ENGLISH WORDS.
Prof: "Words have to have meaning when you use them. Even in a critical paper. This is just ridiculous."
ZING.

Further, today I draw the meteorological line. I do not ever want to use the words "snow," "perilous life-threatening conditions," "ice," "AN potato," "blizzard," "low of 17 degrees," "snowshovel," or "-pocalypse" ever again forever.
I am happy to hate you BACK, Philadelphia, but fair warning: my rage is incalculable and I hold grudges for LIFE.

AND for the love of all that is holy on this Mendeleevian Earth.  You guys.
I work. At a job.  I computerize data and manage inventory and learn Quickbooks and construct mail merges.  I do this in exchange for an agreed-upon wage per hour of my blood, sweat, and tears and that, babiez, does not equal "GOLDHEARTED VOLUNTEERISM." 
Bosslady was hoping I just didn't notice that I wasn't getting paid. Which would be LOLZ^max if she didn't now owe me 6 weeks of paychecks and a cheery pat on the back.

I swear I will steal smoothies in blind, ruthless revenge.  I swear I will.

Thus, in honor of both Mardi Gras and Winter Games 2010, I leave you with this for your Tuesday evening:

AN OLYMPIC DRINKING GAME

I am so thankful tonight is men's figure skating.

Drink if/when:
- An athlete eats ice
- An athlete lands a triple/quad (if that's what the big terrifying jumps are)
- An athlete's costume/uniform makes you uncomfortable
- An athlete dislocates something AND keeps skating
- A commentator waxes nostalgic about "dreams coming true"
- A commentator uses the phrase "the future of figure skating" re: an athlete/skill/musical selection

Finish your drink if/when:
- A wardrobe malfunction halts the program
- An injury halts the program
- Team USA takes home a gold medal
- A Zamboni gets air time

first time i have EVER had trouble distinguishing christine in a parking lot.

I drafted a good six blog posts during the Endless Whiteout Days of Pandemonium and am pretty proud of myself for posting not a one!  The cabin fever was righteous you guys.
The blog posts were CRACKED OUT.

And because I love you most, the real gems are reproduced below. Happy Friday!

- Feb. 10, 2010 3:30p :
It seems being from the South gives me a snow day advantage.  By this I mean: people are genuinely concerned that the city is officially in shut-down mode, while I comfortably maintain "That is what you DO when it snows."  Duh, you guys. You panic, frantically attack your local grocer's nonperishable stockpiles, lock down a Snuggie, and try not to die.
And yet JParty specifically notes:

But what about our RESPONSIBILITIES?

The North is so helplessly backward.  Poor things.

- Feb 10, 2010 6pm :
Favorite SnowNiño moments:

 

You can actually see the whiteout approaching.

I could be a meteorologist. I bet it's awesome to root for weather like this all the time 

and then finally ACTUALLY see the Apocalypse approaching

Temple is closed again tomorrow, which is making locals uneasy.  I suppose I should really be concerned that the usually-nonplussed local population is legitimately worried about the SOTPhiladelphiaU, but it's hard to be nervous when there is such a great bottle of wine sitting on my counter right now WHOOPS

Feb. 11, 2010 8am :
Captain's log, day two week two -- The second day dawns eerie and sterile.  The building itself is braced for further horror.  Human life is as yet undetermined.
SnowNiño has spared none mercy.

Noon :
Work has decided it is my responsibility to keep the business afloat during Enraged SnowGod Tantrum Week and thus here I am, rocking the front desk, singlehandedly managing a small business with my cup of coffee, stack of papers to file, and O magazine from 2007. Turns out you should invest that daily latté budget in real estate, as land pretty consistently appreciates in value you guys.

I bet I would be awesome at corporate America.

Feb 12, 2010 2:30pm :
- Least favorite SnowNiño moments:

 

I can't decide if this is funny or tragic.

 

Poor Christine. She was against Philadelphia from the start.

- It strikes me that thanks to Dennis's snowshoveling machine thing and the complex's very own baby snowplow ... I will have lived through three record-setting snowcalamities without having to shovel AN single inch of snow. 

Life in the ghetto you guys. It's rough, but we make do.

the fleur-de-lis is ALSO the coat-of-arms of the french Bourbon monarcy. because of course it is!

Congratulations to a city with more hope, grit, determination, heart, [JAMBALAYA] and love than seems possible.  You are the best, and we are proud of you.

"After Hurricane Katrina ravaged New Orleans, it was widely assumed that NFL free agents wouldn't want to sign with the city's NFL team. There was too much baggage, too much drama and too many question marks. [In SuperBowl XLIV,] the Saints defeated the Indianapolis Colts 31-17."
- Drew Brees makes history en route to Saints SuperBowl win (02/07/10)

it is "Snowmegeddon 2: The Reckoning" and i have AN potato in my pantry.

It is not enough that THIS is the year I choose to move 300 miles due north of my homeland to the Arctic Tundra.


View Larger Map
It is not enough that here in the Arctic tundra snow counts as "weather" and not "Act of God." 
In Virginia, the barest whispered threat of flurries brings the hard axe of school, office, and government cancellations sweeping down from the heavens in a desperate scramble to KEEP PEOPLE OFF THE ROADS MY GOD IT IS SNOWING YOU GUYS!!11!!1
In Philadelphia, people make fun of your snowfear and for not having a winter hat.  They expect you to carry out normal daily activities surrounded by cold white stuff.  Not just go to class, either: DRIVE. PLACES. AND. BE. NORMS. And then talk about how "pretty" that cold white stuff is.

But learning to live in such a foreign environment is not enough.

NOR is it enough that The Snow Gods That Be deemed this December

The December That Preempted The End of Days With Crushing Snow.  

In Czech: "snow calamity."  In Anne-eurism: "OH MY GOD."

But THIS YEAR, the year of my great big Northern adventure, WILL be the year that record-breaking blizzard conditions ravage the MidAtlantic.
TWICE. 
Two times.
Because of course it will.

For the record, you guys, I blame me.  I blame my own blasphemous snide comments and utter refusal to accept snowliving.  I blame my bitter resistance to gloves, knitted hats, and winterizing Christine (I am SO SORRY CHRISTINE).

Please show mercy, Snow Gods, and let THIS be enough.  May this and this alone be the final Snowpocalypse (til I can get myself and Christine down to the subtropics in May and then WHO CARES what monsterblizzards the MidAtlantic suffers
NOT ME)

for i am a lazy blogger.

It turns out the 40 hours I spend a week in the library do not lend themselves to hilarious and humiliating blog posts.  By which I mean, "I can't top falling off the stacks."
I'm sorry for my lazy blogging, you guys.  But here's a rapid-fire gift: MANY and sometimes awkward things I hope you enjoy reading. 

- Turns out this "teacher" thing is way harder and way more expensive than advertised. I don't even want to tell you
A) how much money I have handed over to ETS in exchange for four hours of content testing, OR
B) what my once-idyllic spring break now looks like.
Sometimes I mantra "It's not about the destination, it's about the JOURNEY."  Right?  Of course it is.
Then in the back of my mind my little skeptic goes "BUT WHAT IF. What if this journey rounds the bend and it's nothing but kindergartners for miles.  Sticky fingered, snotting, crying, screaming, glue-eating kindergarteners."
For MILES.  What shoes do you even wear.

- I discovered something confusing about myself this weekend: this Republican. He does things to me.  Politically.
I feel dirty.

- My faculty adviser is kind of a hero of mine.  I found out last week she will cut you.
"This is not a master's thesis. Rewrite this and don't bring it back to me until it's a thesis.  Seriously, if you don't understand this [obscure grammar rule] go back to school, I mean REALLY."
Roger THAT.  Grad school, you guys.  It's the best.
So, um, that's what stands between me and graduating.  That and the French fluency exam of lore this Friday.

- The Power Squad saw this last week, but I wanted to share latest news with you guys:

This suggestion begs more questions than it answers.

• Is this a real dude?
• Probably not a real dude. Right? 
• I FB-searched to find out if it is a real name.  Because if it is on FB, it is (probably) real.
• IT IS A REAL NAME.   People have this name.
• Is it like Norwegian for "pancake"? Dutch for "sweater"?
• I checked my IKEA catalog and couldn't find it so ... not Finnish.
• Facebook has suggested I should be friends with him.
• What exactly about my profile screams I need "Nütsac" in my friends list?  It needs immediate rectifying.
• He was born in 1919. Strike 1 for "real person" argument.
• One of our mutual friends is Randall P. Earlock.  Um, strike 2?
• They've spoken.  Strikes three and four.
• I feel cheated.

It is sad how upset I was to discover this imaginariness.  I think we would have been good friends.

- I suspect this might be offensive, but I have no desire to see Avatar. Whatsoever.

Today's inspirational quote:
“If any vegans came over for dinner, I could whip them up a salad, then explain my philosophy on being a carnivore: If God had not intended for us to eat animals, how come He made them out of meat?”
- Sarah Palin, Going Rogue

i was the creeper on the subway. it was ME.

Two things happened today that I feel compelled to share with you.

- There are so many people in the world that rub me the wrong way and they never did anything at all to me.  Carrie Underwood, for example. My high-school AP Gov teacher.  This guy in my creative writing class.
I have taken the liberty of carefully marking a portion of today's notes and transcribing them here, for you. Let me set the scene: sometimes in lecture, when you hear something interesting, you may quietly "hunh" and mark that interesting thing in your notes. You might even, if it's REALLY INTERESTING, unconsciously blurt a "wow, that's interesting" and mark that REALLY INTERESTING thing in your notes.
This guy during lecture:

"The title, Improvisations ['uh-hunh'], evokes several levels ['hunh'] of interpretation. To improvise ['uh-hunh'] means to be unprepared ['Hunh.'] but also suggests, for example, intimate knowledge ['HUNH'] of the form; an understanding of the instrument ['HUNH'], of its scales ['HUNH'], ...of the type of music ['Oh WOW, HUNH'] ... you want to evoke."

I am IRKED.  This is going to be a grating semester.
I am also CERTAIN he is a really great guy. Do not misinterpret my irked-ness as a character judgment on him.  Enthusiastic participation in seminar is great and I bet if I got to know him, we would be excellent friends.
But until that day: for the love, "HUNH" guy.  I am DISTRACTED.

- An open letter to the guy I über-creepered on the T:
Today I was on the subway from Temple U to City Hall to meet my g-biffles for lunch (MMM Philly Restaurant Week) and it was packed. I squished into a door area, since CH is maybe 5 stops down, and out of my peripherals I saw ... Devin. But like, Devin.
For the longest time I just froze, glassy-eyed, trying to figure out why I couldn't stop staring at this guy. Then out of nowhere my face went "DEVIN?!!?11!?1" right as my brain went "Wait, you have no idea that that's Devin" and that was an awkward five seconds.
I don't really know Devin. I know he lived on Y3N freshman year and was Andrew's (?) roommate and that is the extent of my knowledge. So on the one hand: that was fellow Tribesman Devin in PHILADELPHIA WOOT and on the other: ".... IS that Devin?"  I desperately wanted to shoot him some sort of TRIBE-ONLY secret handshake but WM is not cool enough for that. But I couldn't NOT acknowledge that that was probably Devin, fellow Tribesman in Philadelphia.
This situation needed rectifying because it was FRYING MY BRAIN.

Suddenly one of my genius ideas cropped up: my phone has a CAMERA. My phone is still silenced from lecture! I am meeting DAN of Y3N for LUNCH this is HAPPENING.
So I whip out my phone and front like I'm texting.  I do that thing where you shift around, "looking for signal," and type a few random numbers with a concentrated look on your face.  I ever so carefully position him center-frame and nonchalantly click "Take Photo."

Turns out, even when your phone is silenced it makes a deafening "CLI-CLICK" shutter sound.  And everyone in your immediate area will hear it and look to see who you are creepily taking a picture of.

He looked right at me as I not only scrambled to assume a "I WAS SO NOT PHOTOGRAPHING YOU" expression but simultaneously dropped my phone in the crowded subway car.  By the time I fumbled it back into my hands, shame-faced, the blurry photo was erased and so too was my pride.

The worst part is, at lunch Dan pulled up a group shot of his entire hall on his iWhatever and Devin was not in the picture at all.  If I ever see him again, I cannot confirm his identity as we both will only remember the very awkward day I über-creeped him.

Sorry, maybe-Devin. I'm sorry for photographing you today on the subway.

i look forward to the many congratulations parties i will be thrown in coming weeks

So, um ... I was offered a position with the 2010 South Louisiana Corps.

pause for cheers, applause, general hoopla

Agreed. I'm pretty much crazy-excited.

It's not all roses and song, though, you guys.  I've been placed with K-6 education (in Diana's timeless words: "Um, do they KNOW you?") and in Baton Rouge, when New Orleans is much more glamorous.  Further, I have to pass PRAXIS general knowledge exams.  Shudder.
Primarily I am so terrible you guys with kids!  We do not hang out.

But several things must be noted.
- I officially have a JOB.  It is SALARIED.  Also there are BENIS.  Plus a SALARY.
- It is in EDUCATION.  Which is awesome.  My mom (fifth straight "Teacher of the Year," btw) cried a little
- It is for a NONPROFIT.  Make your silly little "Blue-collar people are so liberal!" jokes, but holy jeebus I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be working for a nonprofit org in a low-income community.  Like a real liberal.
- LSU actually knows how to tailgate.  Unlike SOME tiny little MidAtlantic colleges. (I don't blame you, W&M. You do the best you can with the 1-acre stadium you have.)
- They give you a 40 page pdf guide packed with details re: your new community.  In my case, Baton Rouge.  And in my case, between pages of crawfish boils, shots of the languid bayous, jamabalya recipes, and shout-out after shout-out of my favorite restaurant, The Chimes ... it is a little like coming home.  TO AWESOMENESS.

So New Orleans may have the glamour, but Baton Rouge is an old soul.  And NoLa is like AN HOUR from BR, NBD you guys.

And, um.  I'm really, really excited.  Come join me in shucking graduate school aside for a hot second to celebrate this weekend!
(WHISKEY AND SODAS FOR EVERYONE)

[BONUS POST ADDITION!
My first trip to Baton Rouge ever was in 2006.  Enjoy these rare shots of 19 year old me getting my bayou on:]

Welcome to Baton Rouge! From the Capitol Building

This is a BEIGNET. Strongly. Recommended.

This is also the State Capitol. Note the moss-covered trees and lush otherwise vegetation.

I look forward to the subtropics after Philly winter.

THIS IS A CRAWFISH BOIL.

Oh. Em. Gee.

That is me on the left, tearing it up. It is like the BEST BARBEQUE EVER.

You would be horrified if I told you how many pounds of crawfish I can (AND HAVE) put away in a single hour.

 

LSU's macot, Mike. He was really boring.

But intimidating on game day.

Also the first time I ever met Barack Obama was in Baton Rouge.

To Sum: Baton Rouge is awesome.  I will be moving there in a little under four months.  If you want gumbo and étoufée airlifted get your orders in now NOM

Also: will you still love me if I move to a red state? I'm serious.

cake! cake with blue icing and a hope-filled center!

I do not give our President enough credit, you guys. And it's his anniversary as our President today! It was kind of a big deal to me a year ago, and it's kind of a big deal to me now.  Thus I give you:

Sexiest POTUS moments of the past year*

It has been a sexy year. IMHO.

• 1/23/09 POTUS ends the "Mexico City Rule" (frees women's health, HIV/AIDS research)
• 3/9/09 Stem cell research is de-politicized: restrictions on funding removed
• 4/5/09 POTUS outlines a nuclear-arms-free global future
• 5/19/09 Environmentalism becomes major focus as strict auto emissions policies are announced
• 6/17/09 POTUS announces the extension of health care benefits to partners of gay federal workers 
• 6/27/09 Historic climate change bill, in part requiring power companies to produce 15% of power from wind/solar energy, is passed by Congress
• 7/21/09 Campaign for health care reform is launched
• 8/9/09 Sotomayor, first Hispanic and third female Judge, is sworn in

• 9/8/09 POTUS makes education a national responsibility and addresses America's students
• 10/13/09 The SFC passes a healthcare reform bill
• 10/30/09 HIV-positive visitors no longer banned from the US
• 11/8/09 The House passes a healthcare reform bill
• 12/24/09 The Senate passes a healthcare reform bill
• 1/14/10 POTUS orders $100M aid to Haiti

That is a LOT OF SEXY for a single year.  This year x4 = Obama presidency which inevitably = awesome.

This has been my political post of the year.

* This sexy timeline adapted from The Guardian. Their (sexy-in-its-own-right) timeline can be found here

boom. English majored.

- 115 days til that M.A. is in my hot little hands.  SCHWING.

• Checklist:
• pass the French exam
• sweet-talk my thesis through committee
• persuade our Hobbit-like Director to approve the red tape
• That flimsy little piece of paper better be worth the madness.  I have no qualms about cutting a b.

- 4 days til I found out if I have a real, legit, salaried, benis-boasting job next year.

• Keep your fingers crossed, you guys.
• I'm petrified.
• AND super over fighting the good anti-unemployment fight with my fellow peeps.  It is the worst.  Solidarity, peeps.

- 33 days to my first wedding experience ever.

• Fact: I have never been to a wedding.
• EVER.  They look fun on TV though.
• I was a flower girl twice in the early 90s, when my adorableness reigned supreme.  Neither wedding counts, however, as I was ineligible for either open bar.
• Fact: This wedding will be going down in New Orleans.
• In a jazz hall.
• During Mardi Gras season.
• Bonus: more beignets in NoLa than in Philly.
• I am working on my dance routine to "Thriller" as we intertube.

- 15 days to the last-ever LOST premiere.

• My LOST bets:
• Jack's story will end with "My name is Jack Shepherd and I am an alcoholic" (via @EWDocJensen). That is an excellent bet.
• SKate will crush Jate.  Duh.
• Stephen King will be revealed as the Smoke Monster.
• See: King's The Talisman. Boom: English majored.
• I have enjoyed blowing your mind today.
• Aaron is Ben. Obvs.
• The Valenzetti equation = the answer.
• It pretty much explains everything, DUH you guys
• Nutshell: predicts the moment of human extinction.  A la Doomsday Clock.
• Variables: human, animal, environmental factors
• Static values: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42.
• DHARMA's project: control it. Seize universal power.
• I look forward to becoming master of the universe when my VE theory is proven
• Sawyer, in an unexpected reversal of sentiment, befriends the polar bear community in a dramatic and furry island coup
• Also a brand-new, big-city LOST party.
• My Philly friends are regretting the Evite. I can feel it.

I am horrified to realize it is more-than-halfway through January already.

I have this on a tshirt. Don't judge.

this morning i learned that "i'm pretty okay with Excel, why?" means "i would be HONORED to be your new accountant"

I have made my position re: corporate America abundantly clear.  And yet, I continue to return to her arms, hoping this time will be different.  Maybe this time things will have changed.

And each time, the romance blossoms.  Each time we start slow, building a relationship based on trust and mutual understanding.  Each time, I wonder if this is it, if this is the time we respect each other's differences and love each other more for our quirks.  And each time, she kicks me in the face with the force of her soul-crushing lies.

My crisis with corporate America is that I love a paycheck.  I am willing to answer phones and perform data-entry for a paycheck, and that, firends, is the cornerstone of corporate America.  Sometimes I'm willing to give CorpAm credit: even the best nonprofits have to have soul-sucking cubicles and accountants and grueling 9-5s.  I get it.

This time, corporate America fronted like a small-business owner who founded her own gym and healthy-eating cafe.  I thought "I can get behind this.  Community. Health.  Small-business."

Right?

Bosslady offered me a front desk position with a firm handshake in December.  I was thrilled: zero commute, freedom to read all day, a paycheck with which to buy things.  I trained with Bossminion, met a bunch of great people, and settled down with a stack of books and a pot of coffee.

It was great for like three whole days.

I think my first mistake was agreeing to cover a three-hour shift before New Years, when I inadvertently revealed "OH HAI WALK ALL OVER ME PLZ I LOVE BUSTING IT FOR MINIMUM WAGE"

Maybe that first mistake was assuming that the five staff members I joining forces with would stick around.  Meaning as of Janurary it is Bosslady, Bossminion, and little ole me running the show.  It is awkward at lunch time.

Maybe it was sharing with Bossminion (who's around my age, which makes it worse) that I'm in winter break.  Suddenly, in the middle of LOLZing over the latest "SNL," she slaps me with a "Hey, we need you to come in three hours early every day this week because if you don't, the small business will implode because we have no staff.   See you at 6am KTHXBYE!!"

And suddenly, I am the life force of small-business America in the grip of a crushing recession.

Probably, though, the first real mistake was revealing that I'm at least moderately intelligent.  Bosslady did not expect me to finish an Excel tracking project so quickly, which turned into another tracking project, and now completely revamping their inventory files from the past three years.  You guys.  It was boxes of loose paper, rubber bands, and post-its, and it took me four days to file it all into five large binders with dividers and labels.  I must have impressed someone, because I now cannot escape massive projects.

As in, it turns out the abovementioned inventory needs to be [wait for it] ... COMPUTERIZED.

So I painstakingly pieced together a master fileset and set up a few examples from the past year.  That day, I learned that autosum commands saved my bosses a good three days with a calculator.

The next day, the rest of 2009's inventory appeared on my desk.

Oh, corporate America.  You sweet-talking, coldhearted, irresistible demonlady.

i can confidently state i did NOT molest the virgin queen('s words)

So I got this email from the head reflib:

Tammye,

In future, if you must use those tiny sticky tabs to mark pages in one of our books, as you apparently did to the following:

AUTHOR    Elizabeth I, Queen of England, 1533-1603.
TITLE    Elizabeth I : collected works / edited by Leah S. Marcus, Janel Mueller, and Mary Beth Rose.
CALL NUMBER    DA350 .A25 2000

would you please have the courtesy to remove them before returning the book.

OUCH.  If that's not a punch to the book-loving face.

I feel just like the meanest girl in the class pointed out my spelling error and cut me down over it.  And now everyone makes fun of me so the mean girl will like them and help them with the Dewey Decimal system.
I made an outline of all the reasons why librarians and I should be friends:

• I LOVE librarians.
• They are the best.  They are like human computers of knowledge.  They PROBABLY know the answer, and if they do not, they know exactly which database in which to find the primary source, some anachronistic pics or artist renderings, and inspirational notes in the author's own hand.  Librarians are awesome.
• My big sister is a librarian.
• She travels all over the country to big-name universities, teaching big-name universities how to do research better. We would be stuck in the Dark Ages of technology without her reflib expertise.  Et al.
• You know what else is great?  THE LIBRARY.
• Librarians in libraries can help me find any book in the world, and if they don't have it in their own personal library they will seek it out and bring it directly. to. my. carrel.

So I felt pretty sad about how the librarians hate me.

But then I thought "WAIT A HOLY FRIGGIN GODTOPUS.
"Have I just been schooled over respectful use of the library?"

Here's the thing, you guys.  This is a MAIN CAMPUS LIBRARY at a RESEARCH UNIVERSITY.  Library books always suffer inevitable pencil and dog-ear abuse with all the notes and the scribbles and the whatnot.  Surely my sticky tabs lie at the "not at all that big of a deal" end of the spectrum.  Sometimes, there are even permanent highlights and pen marks bastardizing the text before it reaches your researcher hands.  Where, inevitably, you subject it to your own leaden assault.  It's horrifying.

I mean, Virginia Woolf would seize in her watery grave (too soon?) if she could see what I've done to "To the Lighthouse."  I wait with bated breath for the day I contract lead poisoning from my copies of her stuff.  And it's impossible to tell which dog-ears of all the dog-ears are the important ones, as all the passages are relevant by now.

But those books are MINE.  I own them and therefore own the rights to their physical bodies (too soon?).  I will mark them the eff up because they are mine and I am conducting research.  But I hate checking out a book with someone else's brainless comments scrawled all over the margins, and I won't subject someone else to mine.  And I will not be passive-aggressively demeaned by a snooty librarian that doesn't even have a copy of Going Rogue for me to "read" (too soon?).

So I dug up my library records and said librarian can suck it.

• This past semester I checked out 42 books.  FORTY. TWO. BOOKS.
• 8 of them made the "2010 Reading List," because wow did I overestimate how much reading time I would sacrifice last semester.
• Thus 34 books were checked out for coursework and research.
• 7 were requested from other libraries in the area.
• Because my library isn't good enough for queer theory, but PENN'S IS.
• That leaves 27 of my library's own books, for research purposes, in my hot little hands over the course of an entire semester.
• These titles included Derrida, Barthes, Zeigler, Tatar, Levi-Strauss, Benjamin, and other soul-sucking works.
• In other words:
• NOT PLEASURE READING.
• Things that I need to NOTE, CITE, and otherwise INDICATE passages from.
• So of those 27 books in my library's personal book collection lent to me:
• JUST ONE ended up with sticky tabs in the pages.

I'm not saying what I did was right.  I'm not saying I wasn't being insensitive, returning a borrowed item not in the condition that it came in.

But I AM saying that I choose to use tabs. Also, Elizabeth I: Collected Works is a great text I found interesting enough to tab. I did NOT use pen, dog-ear pages, or otherwise molest the Virgin Queen's words.

I tabbed, mean librarian.  Out of respect.  And I hope it burned your fingers as you pulled each of those three sticky tabs out of your whining book.
COURTESY OF ME.