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I'm full up with school; in fact, I find it difficult to think of anything else. I'm finally beginning to cross things off my list. My schedule is out of kilter. I'm up till 4 most nights and awake again five or six hours later.

For some reason, I'm still able to write. I got an A- on my last essay for Melissa, a grade I couldn't bring myself to look for until I got home that night. I submitted my second response paper to Hattam for the sixties class. Remember that my first response required a re-write. I'm a bit nervous about the results of this second one, which will come Wednesday. I still don't know the results of my re-write, which is fine. I'm not looking forward to it, which Ann knows about. Hopefully she'll be forgiving.

I just finished the first draft of my "travel report." Because I travel so much, it was really hard for me to come up with something to write. Of course, that was a joke. I don't travel. Right now, it's not something I'm big into. I finally came up with a topic yesterday, which is something that I've always had trouble with. I decided to write about L.A., the 5 (Interstate 5 for my non-Cali readers), and Chico -- specifically the day I left for school. I also started my abstract for a conference that I'm applying to present at in April at the other USC (University of South Carolina):(Dis)Locating Identity in the 20th Century: An International Conference The diverse intersections of location and identity entail a necessary debate about the ways cultural, social, historical, political, environmental, and religious forces shape identity in the twentieth century. The arts provide a forum in which the complex relationship between location and identity can be explored and questioned.  Is it possible to map identity? Is the question of culture equivalent to the question of identity? Is identity a project or an object? Does the permeability of physical boundaries affect the definitiveness of identity? Is the term identity obsolete? How do gender, sexuality, class, race, ethnicity, and nationality play into this conversation?  We seek papers that not only reflect and build upon these issues, but encourage the analysis and exploration of multiple types of literature such as hypertext, film, art, and music in addition to poetry and prose. We strongly encourage cross-genre discussions.
I'm on a Call for Papers List and one of them last week was the announcement that this particular abstract submission deadline was extended to Monday. So I decided to submit. I'm not planning on getting accepted but this is what the academia game is about. Present, present, present. If I do get accepted, I'll just be presenting the Hedwig aspect of my thesis.  I still haven't written my statement of purpose. I need to have that done by the end of this week. I finally have a third recommender (NYU needs three; figures). Well, it's kind of unofficial.

This is how the conversation between Elzbieta and myself went on Thursday:  Me: I still need a letter writer. Elzbieta: Do you want me to write you a letter? Me: Do you want to? Elzbieta: Well, you haven't asked. So I'm going to officially ask her this week. I let her in on my angle for the statement: a return to English literature. She liked it and proceeded to offer some points to include. I wrote them down. During the same conversation with Elzbieta, she told me she spoke with Ann and Hattam. She said she heard their class was good. When asked who told her that, she couldn't remember at first. Then she did and told them it was me. And apparently, they responded: "she's interesting." What does that mean? I asked her. She said it was a good thing. Hmm. Interesting. And then I mentioned to her how I thought someone didn't know how to deal with me. She looked at me and with a straight face said: "No one knows how to deal with me." I wasn't offended at all. Later that night, there was a party to celebrate the opening of the University Liberal Studies undergrad program. I went with the TCDS people to basically get some free food and wine. I was in my standard uniform: Jeans, black windbreaker, sweatshirt, and headphones around my neck. Elzbieta told me I looked like I was a member of the set-up crew. She sure isn't afraid to tell me what's on her mind. Again, I wasn't offended. I spoke with Ellen (Fem. political theory prof from last semester); I hid from the flatulent prof (whew). Ellen and I discussed school and what I'm working on. It was actually a good conversation. I couldn't believe she talked with me for the 20 minutes she did. And she introduced me to the director of the program, a woman who has just finished her doctorate at Rutgers. She clearly wasn't interested in me at first, as most of her eye contact went Ellen's way. But when I broke out the identity/literature/gender studies conversation, she lightened up. These people. I also had the pleasure of meeting a young professor who teaches at Lang. She did her dissertation on mixed-race identity in Canada. I forced my story on her and we talked about race and gender for about a half hour. She wants to keep in touch. So I schmoozed. But I kept it real.  Ok, I'm tired. I'm not doing anymore work tonight. Sleeping has become hard enough, because I'm taking thesis thoughts with me. I'm sure a lot of interesting things happened or went through my mind this past week. But I'm not in the mood to try and conjure them. So this will have to do. Oh, I am going to a sex party next Friday I think at Cornelia's old collective. Should be an interesting night.