Finally finished with Finals.

The hard part of Finals is ... finishing them.

I completed my Ancient Sexuality paper just in time. In my haste to take a nap, I sent a "Yay, here you go!" email to Professor-Captain Kirk Ormand, but forgot to include the attachment with the actual paper. It had been a long night.

I've spent the past few days on the paper, focused on seductive lyric poetry in Greece and Rome. I argued that the poems weren't seductive at all. Generally, the poems demeaned the person they were hoping to woo. The pieces, in my view, were intended for something else entirely: asserting the masculinity of the narrator/author. The paper was called "Boyfriend Training."

I muddled through the Astronomy final, nailing the math problems, but totally forgetting how to find supernovas and any useful data about quasars. I'm still working on finished David's paper. The day after the Sexuality paper, I worked on the drama paper, but for some reason, I didn't save it at the end of the night. I lost about 4 hours of work. Pleasantly, I also found that when I opened the document, my paper was awful. Really, quite awful. So I spent the past 5 hours trying to make the paper more coherent.

And then, I worked on novella. And worked. And worked.

And now, I'm done! I've been to the library, bought my parents Christmas presents, worked out at the gym for a really long time, gotten dinner with my grandmother, and slept.

Overall, I fought really well in the War Against Procrastination, battling the axis of academic apathy:
1. Friends
2. Webcomics
3. Events

Friends
These are the Clytemnestra of my life, the sweet dangers who may lead to academic disabling. Pretty, kind, intelligent, bearing tasty things and good ideas. We all cluster in the academic commons of the library, cozy ourselves and chat. I must be wary of them.


Webcomics
A laundry list of foes:
XKCD, Questionable Content, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, Married to the Sea....


Events
Around the end of the year, most folks have their recitals, final projects, and all sorts of ridiculous study breaks. Some days, the "Study Breaks" start at 10:00AM and end at midnight. If you attended all, you'd be in trouble. I focused on a few: a three-band show, the Dead Hear Footsteps (WOBC radio noir drama), the Storytelling EXCO's final show, and Artwalk.

Artwalk is one of my favorite events at Oberlin. The art students of all levels and mediums take over studios, the classrooms, and the hallways of the building. Any empty space is snatched up and covered with photos, sculpture, or paintings. Hallways, furniture, doorways... last year, there was a sculpted boat made of passports sitting between two of the art wings. It's free, open to the public, and packed.

Some of my favorites:
Seth's photos. Seth is one of my coworkers for Academic Ambassadors and his project was perfect. Obies are not very... formal people, in action or in decor. We wear comfy clothes. We're pretty chill. So when there's someone who behaves in a more formal manner, it's pretty interesting. Seth's pieces explored his own formalism, with two black and white photos selected from his set. In both, he was dressed like a young power-broker, tied to a chair or wearing a dunce cap.

Natalia's Quinceañera photos were brilliant.

I asked my friend Izzie if she had any pieces for Artwalk (she's an art major), and she ducked her head and said, "Yeah, but it's no big deal. Don't go for me." Izzie is modest. And highly ridiculous as her piece was beautiful--a dual-layered piece using transparency sheet with the physical form and an underlayer with the skeletal structure, shaded to show a sense of emptiness. Still, Izzie was better than Liz, who forgot to tell me that she had a mixed-narrative piece up--a giant mural with a woman waiting on a road, Wyeth-esque, with a story she told playing on an old walkman.

Many of the pieces were interactive games. A crowd favorite was the Cat Chess Board:






(Anna and Sandhya)

Speaking of Anna, she also had a piece up that gorgeously blended about 10 different cartooning styles, from Ramona Quimby to Eloise. I got lost in it for a while.



Besides this, there were a wall of faces, an installation piece on the divide between Palestine and Israel, colored vials, comics (one by Nick Wirtz, a design/artist/video genius). Antonio built a tank.

The work was so imaginative--being able to see it really helped me through the tedium of Finals.

Afterwards, I went to the Cat and danced to OSTEEL, Oberlin's awesome steel drum band.








Happy holidays!

** Photo Credits to Ma'ayan "Gorgeousface" Plautand the OSTEEL website!

To Do List

To Do:
(I think you can tell a lot about someone by their To Do list.)


Memorize and Block Scene from Arcadia for David Walker's Contemporary British and Irish Drama class.
There are many reasons that David Walker's class is amazing. It's the quintessential discussion class at its most effective. David makes sure the conversation avoids becoming cyclical, but doesn't lead discussion too forcefully, save to have us focus on individual scenes at some points. Discussion moves swiftly, as everyone in the room cares. The class has an interesting mix of Theater and English majors, two very different groups with very different concerns. When we do check-ins--a quick go-round-the-room of each person's gut response to the play--I hear an incredible flurry of comments addressing everything from structure, to gender, a character's particular motivation, intellectual ideals, trouble with staging, one's emotional response, use of language, social implications and a million other things.

We're reading Tom Stoppard's Arcadia this week, so a familiar phrase in check-in was "My mind is blown." Chris Sherwood has spent years telling me about how amazing this play was, and how he needed to do it as his honors project. Then, he would start babbling about gardening, budding sexuality, hermits, historical revisionism and how staging it in Hall Auditorium would be the best thing in the history of the world excepting the invention of Legos. And for years, I would nod and say, "Of course, Chris. Absolutely."

Except Chris was correct. Arcadia is amazing.

The other repeated check-in question was: "I wonder how this looks staged."

That's my homework. Each week, two folks in the class present a scene--blocked, memorized and polished. It's really incredible to watch the classroom get transformed into a stage and to see my demonstrative, passionate classmates become a rapt audience. I'm up for this week, playing 13-year-old prodigy Thomasina as she plots fractals, plays the chaos game and gets googly-eyed over her tutor. I'm excited, but I'm awful at memorizing. I love doing "research"... which is to say, reading about chaos theory.

I'm also doing the scene with Alex Huntsberger, one of the best actors at Oberlin. Normally, Alex is a pretty relaxed guy. But when he goes into character, it's incredible. The Alex-ness of him goes away, and someone completely different peeks out from behind his eyes. I've seen him in shows before--but to watch the transformation from 2 feet away is ... mind-blowing.

PS: When I botched one of the monologues, I kept my face down for a large part of the following discussion. Damn you, overdeveloped sense of shame.


Write More for my Novella Class
Right now, I've churned out 47 pages of a dystopian love story criticizing big box culture called "Wasteland." It involves sewage, child labor, the 1939 World Fair, engineering and romance. I need about 20 more pages, and need to polish it up before my Novella class eats it alive. Novellas are "baby novels," so we're aiming for stories between 50 to 75 pages, which is pretty demanding.

After years of workshop classes, I've got a pretty thick skin, so I'm none too worried about my class of 12 brutalizing my little baby story. But they're all really smart, so I want to make the best use of their time. So the more story I have written, the more effective their commentary. The class has a fascinating mix of writers, all with very different tastes and styles. Some of the novellas are solidly realistic; others more stylized, experimental and surreal. Many of my classmates are taking really big risks--writing through unreliable narrators, or doing fascinating things with form. It's fascinating to watch them through the process.


Paper for Ancient Greek and Roman Sexuality Class!
- Decide whether writing on Catullus or Tibullus.
- Choose poems: read the naughty parts of Catullus out loud to friends.
- Think up brilliant thesis. Smile contentedly.
- Write outline, then discuss with Professor-Captain Kirk Ormand.
- Write first draft, go to Writing Center, weep, rewrite.
- Get an A on paper.
- Rejoice!


The Rest of the List:
- Borrow Nikki's astronomy notes from day missed due to illness. Read about black holes.
- Write lesson plan on Busking for Circus Arts Exco.
- Go Rock Climbing.
- Go to Tumbling Club.
- Go see Jesse's Senior Recital, The Illusion, Cinderella (Cendrillon, an opera), David Bowie movie The Hunger.
- Lead a few circus meetings.
- Run the Turkey Trot?
- Get some sleep?

Chorale at 2:45 minutes in...

I listened to Jim's piece "Chorale" this morning.

Damn, it was great.

At first, I'd imagined it would be like the music I normally listened to- something to hear while doing something else. But no. It was challenging, difficult, in a way that literature should be. It was also miles away from my normal listening style, much more electronic. Jim's a TIMARA major (Technology in Music and Related Arts), his sound is deeply divorced from my ordinary mix of Ben Folds/Decemberists/Muse/Cake/David Bowie/Scissor Sisters. I can only compare it to the soundtracks from "Children of Men": without being in a lyrical form, it's deeply emotional and jarring. There's an apocalyptic sorrow that hangs over it, a thrash of echoes.

Most of the folks I know in the Conservatory are Composition majors- overall, they're a splendid, friendly, eccentric group. But strangely, I've heard very few of their official pieces. Even Eric, who I've known since freshman year-- I can remember hearing only two of his official composition, one at a departmental function, and the other at his Senior Rock Concert. I've heard some of Sean's pieces, but few-little of Ed, and none of Kurt, who I spent 30 hours a week with. Secretive bunch.

It was nice to listen to Jim's piece in the sanctity of my dorm room, rather than the concert hall; wondrous to hear my beloved computer, Kiwi, belt out music I would call art, not entertainment. There's also some innate pleasure I take in knowing that my friends are really freakin talented. Somehow, I know folks who can make music out of nothing.

Good way to start the day. I had to sit down for a while afterwards.

---


Midterms are squeezing in on us all- I ran into Erin and Daniel after working (albeit distractedly) in the library for a bazillion hours and we chatted, in that timeless way that finals/midterms enables. The ends of the conversation get stretchy and long, gasping into some deep revelations on the Way People Are. It's like a dream, 3AM conversations feel so profound when they happen, but afterwards, I'm left disoriented- "What did we talk about? Why? I don't know." My mind gets fuzzy at night.

The crux of my work is a paper for David "Brilliant" Walker on the play "Blasted" by Susan Kane. Blasted is playing in NY- if you're there, you should see it. But I'm terrified of the paper. Papers are not my strongest suit- my analytical style is scattershot, or more geared towards oral presentations than written documents.
My thesis: all love in "Blasted" is communicated through violence. It's not a difficult argument, but I struggle with the presentation of it. My theses are not always too strong or revolutionary; I hesitate to be overly critical of a text. I'm also not an expert on formal dramatic analysis and JSTOR yielded only one paper on the topic I could look to as a model.


I think I'm going to throw the paper at the Writing Center tonight, and ask for their tender mercies. Phew.

Work Ethics

Bad idea: Working on a Friday night.


This week, I had a paper due on Friday – a fairly normal thing. But it took forever. On Thursday, my computer imploded, killing off my draft. This slowed me down. But what really dogged me was my ambition to make The Best Paper Ever.
I've got a strong love of learning, writing and reading. During breaks from college, I read for fun. Writing is my passion. But what keeps me at Mudd Library from dinner past midnight, is my all-consuming fear of having my professors think less of me. Kirk Ormand, my Ancient Sexuality professor, is Just Too Cool. I would rather eat a baby bunny than disappoint Kirk.

So, I'm working. I'm working. 4:30 rolls around- it’s Friday. TGIF. Outside in Wilder Bowl, there's a really great DJ and about 300 people are talking, relaxing, and getting out the stress of the week. Most of my amazing friends are outside, frolicking in what could be the last gorgeous day before fall drops its terrifying curtains of chill across campus and we're all wearing sweaters and sniffling inside. The last lovely afternoon.

And I'm writing about male vs. female poets in 6th Century Greece. Sappho. Mostly Sappho, given she’s the only woman poet we have- fortunately a good one:

“Or if she flees, soon she'll pursue,
she doesn't accept gifts, but she'll give,
if not now loving, soon she'll love
even against her will."”

Then it's 6:00, and my friends are going to Pizza Night, at Harkness. Apparently, Eliza’s dessert pizza is just out of the oven- it has cinnamon. There'll be live music, one of my friends mentions. There's an Open Mic night later. And a Contra Dance.

And I'm inside writing: "For many Greek women, their house marked their boundaries- they were indoor creatures, not expected to live outside."

I think about Kirk, Coolest of the Cool. Captain Kirk. King Kirk. Commander Kirk. I am his deputy, his knight, his homegirl. This paper is mine. I keep on typing.

I get hungry, stop into the Decafe and get an amazing mozzarella sandwich. Other sandwiches get freaked out by how amazingly cheesy my sandwich is. They quail. I eat my sandwich in a hurry. Sappho waits for no woman.

I return to typing and I get lost in the readings. I scramble for my thesis. I retype some ugly phrases. I bemoan my lost draft. I look at the clock. It's 9:00, and I'm tired. I should keep working. I really should. I just have 2 pages left.

But there's a contra tonight.


So… I go contra dancing. It's better than expected- the new callers are great! I dance with Glen, Catherine, Sean, Yoshi, Aaron! One of the dances go horribly awry and Glen and I run to opposite sides of the floor to spin our neighbors! The musicians are great! I take off my shoes to waltz! I spend about 20 minutes play-fighting with Yoshi after the dance finishes at 11:00! Sappho, Kirk, I know you'd want me to do this!

I return to my dorm, sweaty, exhausted, and overjoyed. I bang out the paper and fall asleep, around 3:30 AM.

Thanks, atmosphere!

On Wednesday, I had my lab for astronomy. To call it a lab feels a bit unfair: we looked at the summer sky for about an hour after taking a long walk through the soccer fields. There’s very little air pollution in Oberlin, so the dark is really.. dark. I couldn’t see the crowd of Astronomy students (there were about 40 of us out there) until I was right next to them. Besides my professor, there were three helpers and two upper-level students who act as tutors for the class. One of them, Everett, who I met in my first year at a swing dance, explained some of the basics – Cassiopaea! Polaris! Then, I stared at the moon and Jupiter though these crazily powerful telescopes and listened to Professor S explain what caused stars to twinkle.
“Do you like to breathe?” he asked. We all nodded. “Well, thank the atmosphere!” he continued jubilantly, going on to explain how the density of the atmosphere (generated by the horizon, due to Earth’s middle-heavy shape) caused stars to glimmer as their light reflected through. Professor S is probably one of the most cheerful, jubilant lecturers I’ve ever heard. He also says the word “sky” in a very warm, sweet way.
With a green laser, so powerful that he had to put it away when a plane flew by, Professor S pointed out the Summer Triangle: Vega, Deneb and Altair. I can find it everywhere now.

---

Circus Arts Exco went really well today. We’re a day behind in the syllabus, but as a group, we’ve started to work together. There’s comradery growing between the circus core and the new folks. I love teaching this group; it’s gorgeous to watch folks work together. As we’re going to be doing a lot of constructive criticism later, it’s important to get to know each other.

Otherwise, OCircus is kicking-off. We’ve got a weekend booked for the Fall show at the Cat and the Cream, so November will be a crazy, crazy month.

We are the Mystery Men.

Classes!

They are all so, so wonderful- Modern British Drama, Astronomy, Ancient Sexuality and Novella... and I'm auditing Entrepreneurship and German History.

Entrepreneurship bodes well. It's a strange class, with an odd, multi-pronged approach with lecturers, grant writing workshops and lessons in start-ups. The professor is a Conservatory Dean, who I did an Information Panel with over the summer with Admissions. She talks quickly but clearly about how to get funding for creative ideas.
In lighter news, I ended up sitting next to my best friend. I forgot that we can think... similarly. So, when the prof would prompt a class response, I would write a word down, and Yoshi would whisper it at the same time. These words were "niche" and "innovation." Not exactly the first words one imagines after an open-ended question.

I forgot which classroom my Modern British and Irish Drama class was in and raced up and down the 2nd and 3rd floor, looking for Professor Walker's face. It was funny to poke my head in and out of classes, hearing the little phrases: "patriarchy," "financial disincentive" and "Metternich." I arrived sweaty and 5 minutes late, and proceeded to chew out the play "Look Back in Anger." The class is stocked with theatre majors and some of the main male actors in my year (Mooney, Alex, Kevin, Sobel).

Ancient Sexuality and Astronomy promise to be brilliant; Novella starts on Monday.

---

Looking over schedules walks the careful line between exciting and terrifying. Logistically, I know I can't take a super-demanding schedule given my other responsibilities, but... I want to take everything. I feel odd thinking this when I've spent the last week convincing first years not to overload themselves.

Registration at Oberlin is a funny business for a first year. There are three rungs: over the summer, you choose a first year seminar and another class ; during Orientation, you register for your full schedule; and for the following week and a half, you can add or drop classes as you please.

The middle rung is the trouble. PRESTO, the online Registration system, is pretty easy to use, but it has a few pokey points. Chief issues: the course descriptions are on a separate site and there's no auto-updating list of the open courses. This is normally not a problem... but in the last registration slot, there normally aren't so many open slots to preserve small class sizes. So, it becomes a scramble.

Which is where I come in, pointing freshmen towards open classes as they register. It's one of my favorite parts of Academic Ambassador-ing- exploring the wild jungles of Presto with first-years, slicing through the course catalogue for those amazing classes- "Mass Politics and the Media Age," "Satire," "Climate Change," "Salman Rushdie"... and snagging spots in them.

Once class starts, and Add/Drop begins, everything chills out.