I'll soon be done grading (read commenting extensively) on my first batch of papers from my new class. They are, predictably, mostly horrific and occasionally encouraging. Watch out, though, everyone, next Wednesday, a whole flock of snowflakes will fall from the sky, laden down with my critical penmarks pointing out that either a) they have no argument, b) they don't understand their own argument, or c) they may not be able to read. It will be a sad, sad day. Freshmen are bits of stardust, blown from the hand of god. *sigh*
Aside from the the horrors inevitably attending this kind of grading, I've had a pretty productive week. I managed to draft a chapter, which you should not understand to mean that I've finished a chapter. What I've actually accomplished is to spew about 40 pages of absolute drek, which I will now sit on for about a month while I work on another chapter. At the end of this time, I'll haul its mutilated but still semi-living carcass (in the loosest sense possible, you semantic nazis) up onto my table and begin the vivisection. Think of me as Dr. Moreau. It's the pain, you see, the pain makes my creatures...docile. They know that I am the giver of pain, and if they don't obey me, I'll do some of that flying chain shit from Hellraiser. I hope I'm not mixing my genres too much for you people. This is a fairly accurate description of my writing process, though. Unlike some people (ahem, C and B), who looove their MA theses, I rather tend to look at mine as a pile of my guts that I was somehow able to remove from my body and survive. I bled my ass all over the fucking project. Say what you will, 110 pages in two weeks is no fucking joke. I still have twinges of pain when I think about it, but my pain-go-bye-bye juice keeps the thesis weasels away.
I suppose you can chalk this up to the aforementioned paper grading. One particular gem reads something like this (because I want you all to share my pain): "This may sound racist, but I feel like black people are always acting in really exaggerated ways to call attention to themselves. They do this so that when someone reacts to them, they can accuse that person of being racist! I feel like they are the ones who are racist." All together: grrooooaannnnn.
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4 comments:
Typical. Some kid calls all black people "racist" and you Left-Wing college professors have to silence him with your jackboots!
Also, isn't "Hellraiser" the one with the guy from "Turner & Hooch" where he invents jogging and meets Presidents and sees a floating feather, and Robin Wright Penn dies of AIDS because she's a sinful coke slut and shit? I don't remember chains in that one.
oh, dear woman, don't let them write about race. or abortion. or affirmative action. all of the above will make you want to gouge out your eyes (and then, blindly feel around, sockets bleeding, eye-pulp encrusted screw-driver in hand, to gouge out their eyes as you drip human detritus on their horrified faces.) let them write about MySpace- this is what they know about anyway.
i need to get my ass in gear if you have more done on your diss than i do. i am totally lame
It sounds like a problem of time passage. You write early and revise for weeks before it's due and STILL don't like it. No wonder your MA these isn't beloved--you won't let your words live for more than a few seconds! Notice the guts metaphors and all the "drek" that writing becomes--abusive parent! I'm totally turning you in to Land of Theory's Social Services Unit. Someone with a clipboard and a writ will remove your stack of books, you laptop, and your fuzzy water (hint, hint--drinky drinky on the Poland Springy Springy?) and tell you to "wait 14 days" until you can apply for visitation rights. Your ideas become Ward of the Land of Theory if you don't show them that disserting is a privilege not a right. I know some some inspired--and inspiring!--young grad students who could use a nice stack of books on the gothic, and by use I mean respect with dignity you deadbeat!
Seriously, though, as long as you aren't writing to avoid bad comments from profs, you're OK. It's when you get stuck on their presence over your shoulder...
Have I mentioned that I'm thinking of getting my M.A. framed? (laugh if you must...)
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