A good day.

I am attempting to teach a pile of freshman intro to feminism.  It hasn’t been going well (shocking, I know).  Breakthrough today after discussing the ERA and why it didn’t pass.  Staring down the barrel of thirty-some-odd papers to grade tomorrow, but I think I can bear it now.  And at the end of class, a student was giddy.  Giddy, I tell you!

Had my first workshop with Luis Urrea, and I could not love him more if he was entirely made of chocolate.  I got amazing feedback on my essay, and for the first time in years I think I might be within a few revisions of a piece worth sending out.  I never send things out.

I got the first season of The Wire, which apparently white people like?

And by some magic feat, I not only made it through the Hegel, but dare I say enjoyed it?  He lays out one of the more coherent defenses of what memoir (if it is to be art) ought do.  More fodder for the end of term trauma theory paper.   And I was only a .5 on the public shame chart, instead of X5 like last week.

Things to do: revise my Clarion submissions, for serious.  Grade.  Go see a Mamet play this weekend.

It’s hard to believe this life is mine.  Not sure where it came from, but oh, I’m happy!

Not bored. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/24/books/review/Schuessler-t.html?ref=review


Still boggled by Big City living.  Small victories, though–en route to Trader Joe’s for my weekly groceries (which I carry home on the subway in a mondo backpack, turtle-style) not one but two separate groups of people asked me for directions, and I was able to give semi-helpful responses.  Magnificent Mile and the Pavilion, so not rocket science, but still.  Slowly but surely I stop feeling like a city idiot.  Now I just need to get mugged, and I’ll feel right at home.

Food scores: more baby quiches, chocolate croissants, fried rice ingredients and a jug of OJ (I must kick this cold, stat).  Now if that horrific storm rocking Flagstaff decides to head east, I won’t starve to death.

Roe v. Wade-iversary.

I found this on the Internets, and it amused me.  Saved for future reference.

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work!

Consumer whore.

Went thrift store shopping this weekend, with friend.  She scored the loveliest thing, a vintage black velvet cocktail dress with a baby-doll cut, covered in buttons. But I didn’t do half bad, either.

I went with the goal of finding more teacherly clothes.  Two pieces were particularly lovely: a fitted knee-length black wool blend Bebe skirt (I’ve been wearing it nonstop); and a short black wool coat with a high collar and asymmetrical button closure (it is identical to Matt’s; we will be one of those obnoxious matchy-matchy couples).  Buffalo Exchange and Crossroads in Wicker Park are pretty sweet, but it’s the tiny thrift store next to those that had the most unusual stuff.  I also got a pile of tees to go under things; the classrooms I teach in are set at 90 degrees, and I boil if I’m dressed weather-appropriately, so layers are a must at this point.  Also got one of those funny long sweater-shirt-dress things.  Sweshess?  Dreirt?  I don’t know.

On a grad student budget I shouldn’t be spending money, but I do love thrifting, especially with happy, equally obsessed company.  The pretties!


From the hours of 6 to 8 I sleep.  I hatessss it.  Not sure when the exhaustion started, but it’s killing me.  I’m braindead into the evening, and I have trouble falling asleep.  It’s partly the waking up early to teach thing, which is GOOD, because at least I’m not braindead in class.  Perhaps I need to drink more coffee?

In happy news, Dr. Why appears to be back.  Oh, how I’ve missed you!  http://community.livejournal.com/doctorwhy/

Also, I signed up to have an essay workshopped this week, in Luis Urrea’s class.  I am terrified, besides the feeling rather dumb part.  I so want to impress him, want to write something really brilliant…and of course my big mouth opens and out pops the stupid.  “I’ll go this week,” I say.  I don’t have a draft.  I have a note-scramble, runny with a side of toast.  Of the funeral scene.  So it’s confessional AND disorganized, everybody’s fav.  Boo, me.  Boo.

That said, if not now, when?  Or, if not now, maybe right after my scheduled evening nap…

This post isn’t real.

I’ve wanted to start a blog for ages.  I spend too much time on the Internet; why not make it worse?  My first-year composition instructor way back in undergrad, Ms Rodgers, went by GirlRodgers as her ‘net handle–she took to calling me GirlWonders.   Yes, that really is my last name.  If I can get WordPress working satisfactorily, I’ll tell my friends and relations this blog exists.  Until then, what are you doing here?  How did you stumble on this?