Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
So, I defended on Thursday. I don't want to hear any crap from you bitches about how I should have posted news to that effect IMMEDIATEDAMNLY, because I was in shock for all of Thursday afternoon, was busy all day Friday (partially with graduation, where I saw my peoples getting hooded and degreed and ...accoladed and shit, and on Saturday/Sunday I was too busy introducing my ass to the couch to give a tinker's damn about posting. And you know what, y'all? I've got an imprimatur of authority and a chalice of gravitas just ready for your ass, so whatever. I'm a doctor now -- well, I'm someone with a PhD, but I won't be referring to myself as a doctor* because it sets up needless confusion when I have to explain that I don't have a medical degree and so all of those prescriptions I wrote are worthless -- and I can update my blog whenever I damn well please!
Also, there are going to be major changes over here at The Get Down. In many ways, the crackhead ramblings with which I gifted you poor suckers over the last nine months propelled the writing of the dissertation. But now that that process is largely finished (the final final revisions still need to be completed; the entire work also has to be correctly formatted so that it can be bound), I want to move on to bigger, better things. To that end, over the next few months, I will be eliminating the separate pages over that The Let Down and Ambition Adams. Don't cry for me, Argentina: those two blogs, which were always meant to be addenda and afterthoughts, will now assume their rightful places as subsections on this heah blog. But that's going to take some restructurin' and some fancy html-in'. In case you were worried that my schizophrenic nature will be ill-served by the one blog, however, never fear. I will be debuting new content over at what will be the public face of Ambition Adams Enterprises (confused yet?): Ebony Is The New Black. You'll see. It will all come together.
* this is a lie
Thursday, May 04, 2006
My dissertation defense is ONE WEEK, yo! The time for pointing out administrative obstacles is PAST! What the fuck?!
I just got an email from the Graduate School informing me that I have a course listed on my degree program form (ENGL 8240: The Public And Private in Shakespeare, in case you care) for which I took an incomplete, and if I want to proceed to the defense, I must either have this course stricken from my degree program (requires a petition, natch) or have the instructor assess a grade.
To give you some sense of how "what the fuck?" this is, consider the following:
1. I took that course in my first year of graduate school -- that is, the 1996-97 scholastic year. Now, I remember taking that class, and I remember the paper I was going to write for that class.* I also remember that the reason I didn't finish that paper was because I got very, very sick at the tail end of my first year, and actually wound up going to the hospital, losing a bunch of weight, generally flaking out on schoolwork. I always intended to finish and turn in that paper, but man, the time for that shit is past. I wouldn't even know where in the world to find Dr. Haley to deliver it. Plus, FYI: my defense is in a week. I'm not writing any more bullshit papers, people! Isn't that the fucking point of finishing?! When will I actually be finished?!
2. You would think that, with all the hoops you have to jump through to even get this far (of the "you can't file this form until you file this form -- but you can only get that form once this sequence of forms has been shit out by the rare Crackalacka bird of Johnston Hall and anyway, you're never getting out of here, ho" variety), how is it that no one noticed that I had to take care of this until, you know, right now? I was finished with my course work 3 years ago (5, if you don't count the occasional and non-required dissertation-writing seminar I took to help me get my diss written). How about signing off on some shit as we go, people!
Anyway, I'm back to campus tomorrow to have Mowitt sign the form, and then pray that the DGS is around so he can sign it, and then...I'm sure something else will come up before next Thursday.
* It was to be a consideration of Caliban's entry into language (in The Tempest, Prospero and his daughter ...oh, blah blah blah, I don't even want to get into it. Suffice it to say, he and his daughter teach Caliban to speak, thus provoking great lines like "“You taught me language; and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse.") being his initiation into both public discourse (culture and civilisation) as well as his development of a private self. That is, he did not exist prior to his Lacanian utterance. Eh? Eh? Come on! That shit is dope! I was mixing in all kinds of intro-to-theory bs there, and what's more, I actually knew what I was talking about.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Remember when that guy tried to holla at me on the bus by telling me that I looked like a "thicker Mary J. Blige"? And I was like, brother, how in the fuck is that a compliment?
I have had my share of backofthebus proposals, from the guy who jerked off in the seat in front of me to the guy who jerked off in the seat across from me to the guy who grabbed my ass as I got up to disembark to the...well, you get the point. But today's winner of the "Boldest Nucca" award goes to the ballsy fool at the Chicago-Lake transit station. The bus I was riding downtown had stopped to pick up and discharge passengers, and this joker tapped on my window and smiled at me and then motioned for me to get off the bus -- presumably so that he could continue his wooing. Ain't that some shit? I'm going somewhere, and I'm pissed off already because I'm taking the damn bus to get there, but I'm supposed to stop what I'm doing so that you can...what? And it wasn't a good-natured kind of "hey, pretty lady! Why don't step off the bus so I can talk to you?" kind of gesture; it was astrident kind of "GET OFF THE BUS" kind of wave. It was like someone telling you to pull your wallet out of your purse so that they can rob you more easily.
And finally, I'm under no delusions (I think) about my hotness or lack thereof, but seriously. When a dude who looks like that thinks that he can compel me to get off the bus by sheer will alone, that is the day I give up on life.