While I read How to Read Literature Like a Professor yesterday afternoon, the phone rang. Husband answered.
"It's Rebecca," he said and brought me the phone.
My cousin is a writer, so I thought I'd show off what I learned thus far. "Did you know that rain is a symbol of cleansing in literature?" I said, rather than "Hello."
She started to reply, when Husband shouted, "So's douche!!!"
My chest puffed with pride. We are so erudite in my household.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
What Would CUSS Readers Do?: Lit Crit 101
Um, does anyone know anything about writing 2-3 page criticisms of short stories and essays focusing on one aspect of the work (like dialog)? Because I sure as fuck don't have a clue. I take that back - I have a clue, but only one that would lead me to write 2-3 sentences.
Advice is welcome. Recommendations of potential sources are welcome. Anything is welcome.
Update, 6:20 PM: After spending some time cruising the aisles of my local B&N, I purchased How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster. It certainly lives up to its subtitle, "A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines. While I do not think this will entirely solve my problem, it has provided me with three or four more clues as to how to write some sort of paper describing the techniques that are used in the various pieces that I am reading. I also bought a book of literary essays from 2000-2005 by J.M. Coetzee. Now I just hope that "literary essays" and "literary reviews" are synonyms for "literary criticism."
CUSS reader insight is still very welcome.
Advice is welcome. Recommendations of potential sources are welcome. Anything is welcome.
Update, 6:20 PM: After spending some time cruising the aisles of my local B&N, I purchased How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster. It certainly lives up to its subtitle, "A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines. While I do not think this will entirely solve my problem, it has provided me with three or four more clues as to how to write some sort of paper describing the techniques that are used in the various pieces that I am reading. I also bought a book of literary essays from 2000-2005 by J.M. Coetzee. Now I just hope that "literary essays" and "literary reviews" are synonyms for "literary criticism."
CUSS reader insight is still very welcome.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Keeping the Motor Running
Yesterday I brought myself in for a tune up at the cooter garage (i.e. - the gynecologist, not Cooter's Garage from Dukes of Hazard, although if I were a GYN, I would definitely name my practice Cooter Garage). This was the third GYN I saw in three years. My first GYN, who I adored because she used foul language to describe a bad doctor, disappeared at the end of 2006. I tried my friend Sara's doc last year, but wasn't impressed. (She described him as very attentive, but I had to remind him to take my history before the exam. Not cool.) I wasn't sure if I would see him again or try to find another person for my annual exam this year. Finding new doctors is a pain in the ass (or maybe in this case, in the crotch?).
Then, in May, the answer came to me while I visited Dr. P in Florida. One might think that she referred me to some doctor that she knew, but of course, that would be a normal way to select a new doctor. While I usually do not read women's magazines (I even hate the term), Dr. P had an issue of Glamour that I picked up while we were sitting around her apartment. Generally, I do not find the health articles helpful, so I was shocked to read one in which the author, a gynecologist in New York City, warned women about the potential dangers of Brazilian waxing. Plus, her bio at the end of the article indicated that she contributes to a feminist sexuality blog. I knew we would get along.
"This is my new gynecologist!" I announced to Dr. P and Husband, pointing excitedly at the open page.
"OK," Husband mumbled, not looking up from what he was reading.
"Great," Dr. P said from the other room.
The best part is that I was right: I LOVE this woman. (This most excellent gynecologist, by the way, is Dr. Katherine O'Connell at New York-Presbyterian.) She's totally the shit. As long as she doesn't drop off the face of the earth, I'll not worry about my poon care for a long time.
Then, in May, the answer came to me while I visited Dr. P in Florida. One might think that she referred me to some doctor that she knew, but of course, that would be a normal way to select a new doctor. While I usually do not read women's magazines (I even hate the term), Dr. P had an issue of Glamour that I picked up while we were sitting around her apartment. Generally, I do not find the health articles helpful, so I was shocked to read one in which the author, a gynecologist in New York City, warned women about the potential dangers of Brazilian waxing. Plus, her bio at the end of the article indicated that she contributes to a feminist sexuality blog. I knew we would get along.
"This is my new gynecologist!" I announced to Dr. P and Husband, pointing excitedly at the open page.
"OK," Husband mumbled, not looking up from what he was reading.
"Great," Dr. P said from the other room.
The best part is that I was right: I LOVE this woman. (This most excellent gynecologist, by the way, is Dr. Katherine O'Connell at New York-Presbyterian.) She's totally the shit. As long as she doesn't drop off the face of the earth, I'll not worry about my poon care for a long time.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I Adore My In-Laws
My mother-in-law (MIL) is also freaking out about the election these days. Like me, Sarah "Exactly the Same as George W. Bush" Palin is scaring her. I sent her an email noting my amusement that Husband is on McCain's mailing list for some unknown reason. Her response cracked me up:
FIL has been known to vote Republican at times, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he fucks with them, too. It is so wonderful to marry into a good family.
Like father, like son. [Father-in-Law (FIL)] is also on a Republican mailing list. He often gets questionnaires, and he always answers as if he were a socialist/communist, just to get under their skin. He too, mails it back in their envelope. Perhaps I should sign up on a McCain website to get mail. Let's flood them.
FIL has been known to vote Republican at times, so I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he fucks with them, too. It is so wonderful to marry into a good family.
Theo Thursday
It's the same message as last week, but he's a stuffed bear and has some language barriers, so cut Theo some slack. Plus, he was up until 1:30 looking for a good picture so he could put a face to the problem. (Isn't he clever?)
(If Theo's message is not legible, double click on the photo for a larger version.)
Theodore Roosevelt Reisman is a companion polar bear and has lived with Suzanne for approximately 20 years. His opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and concern for wild polar bears partly stems from learning about the conservation efforts of his namesake, Pres. Theodore Roosevelt.
(If Theo's message is not legible, double click on the photo for a larger version.)
Theodore Roosevelt Reisman is a companion polar bear and has lived with Suzanne for approximately 20 years. His opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and concern for wild polar bears partly stems from learning about the conservation efforts of his namesake, Pres. Theodore Roosevelt.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Five Things I'm Loving
1. Husband somehow wound up on John McCain's mailing list. The man is a lifelong, committed Democrat. He is never going to give money to a douche bag like McCain. Every time I find an envelope from the McCain campaign in our mail box, I think of the money they wasted sending him materials. The return envelope is one of those "No postage necessary if mailed in the United States" deals. Would it not be awesome to wrap it around a brick and send it back? Mwa ha ha ha ha.
2. Going back to school at an "older" age. When I went for my MPA, I was only 22. I didn't feel confident enough to speak up on certain issues or challenge others, so I didn't say anything. This time around, I am just as eager to learn, but I'm also not willing to sit on my opinion. Plus, I care not a whit about grades. I just want to do my best and see what happens. It's liberating.
3. My pink John Fluevog boots. And the fact that I did not pay anything near $305 for them a few years ago. (I bought them on clearance, although now I'm shitting myself at what it will cost to replace them some day.)
4. On a perfect sunny day in the mid-70s, I hopped the subway to see St. Demetrios' ankle bone. (First I went to the dentist, though. No cavaties!)
5. The good people I continue to meet in person and online.
2. Going back to school at an "older" age. When I went for my MPA, I was only 22. I didn't feel confident enough to speak up on certain issues or challenge others, so I didn't say anything. This time around, I am just as eager to learn, but I'm also not willing to sit on my opinion. Plus, I care not a whit about grades. I just want to do my best and see what happens. It's liberating.
3. My pink John Fluevog boots. And the fact that I did not pay anything near $305 for them a few years ago. (I bought them on clearance, although now I'm shitting myself at what it will cost to replace them some day.)
4. On a perfect sunny day in the mid-70s, I hopped the subway to see St. Demetrios' ankle bone. (First I went to the dentist, though. No cavaties!)
5. The good people I continue to meet in person and online.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Suzanne and the Beanstalk
Once upon a time, in a magical land called New York City, where unlike most of America, people from all around the world live together in relative peace and tolerance, lived a curmudgeonly woman with a heart of gold. Despite her loathing of people in general, Suzanne spent years working to create safer communities and better opportunities for low income children and women. Her reward was burn out and even more crabbiness and cynicism, so she quit to write a fun book about New York City called Off the Beaten (Subway) Track. While this excellent publication entertained many people, it did not contribute very much to her household income, so she continued her work to make the world a better place through consulting.
As Suzanne worked on a project this morning, she knocked over her circa 1981 McDonald's Great Muppet Capers glass (featuring the only Muppet she despises, Miss Piggy). Water spilled everywhere, including under the couch. Grumbling, Suzanne set off to fetch paper towels (incidentally, "I've got some paper towels!" is a favorite line from "The Great Muppet Caper") and mop up the wet mess before her conference call.
As she labored on her knees (not that kind of work that a woman might perform while kneeling, pervert) with a wad of paper towels, she made a discovery. Somewhere from under the depths of the couch popped out a single emerald jelly bean. Suzanne could not remember the last time jelly beans were consumed in her apartment, so she knew immediately that, unlike the Teddy Graham she found under her other couch while moving furniture around on Sunday, that this morsel of food was magic! (This was one of many reasons that she fought an extremely disturbing temptation to eat it. The last thing she needs these days is a beanstalk erupting from her gut like on one the aliens in Alien.)
Suzanne set the magic green jelly bean aside and finished sopping water from the floor. She decided that in the event that Team New George Bush wins the election in November that she will plant it in Central Park. When the beanstalk appears, she will climb it and run away from the cretins who love increasingly fascist rulers who believe that God wants them to build $30 million natural gas pipelines, ban books, and turn the civil service into an ideological gang of bullies.
THE END
As Suzanne worked on a project this morning, she knocked over her circa 1981 McDonald's Great Muppet Capers glass (featuring the only Muppet she despises, Miss Piggy). Water spilled everywhere, including under the couch. Grumbling, Suzanne set off to fetch paper towels (incidentally, "I've got some paper towels!" is a favorite line from "The Great Muppet Caper") and mop up the wet mess before her conference call.
As she labored on her knees (not that kind of work that a woman might perform while kneeling, pervert) with a wad of paper towels, she made a discovery. Somewhere from under the depths of the couch popped out a single emerald jelly bean. Suzanne could not remember the last time jelly beans were consumed in her apartment, so she knew immediately that, unlike the Teddy Graham she found under her other couch while moving furniture around on Sunday, that this morsel of food was magic! (This was one of many reasons that she fought an extremely disturbing temptation to eat it. The last thing she needs these days is a beanstalk erupting from her gut like on one the aliens in Alien.)
Suzanne set the magic green jelly bean aside and finished sopping water from the floor. She decided that in the event that Team New George Bush wins the election in November that she will plant it in Central Park. When the beanstalk appears, she will climb it and run away from the cretins who love increasingly fascist rulers who believe that God wants them to build $30 million natural gas pipelines, ban books, and turn the civil service into an ideological gang of bullies.
THE END
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)