Welcome To My Bed

Finding places to hide.

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Lately, I've been getting the feeling that I cannot do work in the same space twice. On Saturday, it was the library. Or maybe that was Friday. Fairly frequently, it has been taking place in some form at Cass and Sophia's house (we call these gatherings study parties and drinking the ever multiplying cans of PBR that hide behind jelly jars in their fridge; we don't know how there can still be beer after all this time). And today, the location is Emily Dickinson Hall. I figured that since I was attempting to write a literature paper, I should go a place named after a writer. But really, my room is too much of a mess to study in, my living room in constantly serenaded by the dulcet tones of VH1 voice-over, and no one is ever awake as early as I am, so going over to 40 is still out of the question. I guess this couch will have to do.

Last night was the screening for Evan and James' final films, and I just want to say that they made me so proud. All the time and effort that went in showed in the best possible way. There was a huge audience too, which I was thrilled about, and not just because so many people came up to me afterwards to tell me that I did a great job acting (I guess it's easy when you're friends with both directors?), but because the guys deserved it. I even got to see James' parents again, which was not the boatload of awkward I was expecting it to be. They are such sweet people.

And then there was the after-party. We drank champagne from the heaviest bottle known to man - the thing literally had metal embellishments - and sang a decent amount of Queen, which is just the way I wanted it. There were fireworks. We watched Spaced, as any group of cinema nerds would after the first real premiere. Not counting Upstaged of course.

As for right now, I'm attempting to write a paper on the articulation of identity in reaction to familial handling of the past in Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon and Beloved. I found some great articles on Project Muse, so now I'm actually writing instead of just brainstorming, but I can't trust myself with academic resources: I got side-tracked by the search bar and ended up downloading about twenty articles about Virginia Woolf. Why yes, I do plan on nerding out hardcore all summer. And yes, that plan does include reading a serious amount of scholarly literature for no reason other than that I thoroughly enjoy it. Why am I not going to grad school for literature again? Oh right, I have no capacity for focusing on the task at hand. Hence why my entire paper is still in scatter-brained legal pad form. Time for some restructuring. I'll let you know when I move on to my discussion of the failure of love in Michel Houellebecq's The Elementary Particles using that bell hooks book on love that April gave to me and Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of Love (which has the most poetic introduction of any sociology book I have ever seen). Somuchreadingtodo.

Countdown to (Rhode) Island living: t-minus 1 week and counting.