Summers are for
waking up at 8 o’clock… then falling back asleep for another hour and a half.
walking to the library to read books containing knitting and magic tricks and French travel writing instead of nationalism and postmodernism and hybridity.
eating gelato at Deluca’s in Richmond.
wandering Maymont Park on a perfectly warm and light, yet cloudy (so neither squint-making sunny and nor uncomfortably hot) day.
viewing the Virginia Museum of Fine Art‘s Picasso exhibit until 10 o’clock at night. (Also, switching heels for flat shoes halfway through the African period.)
trading the morning mug of black tea for one of white, since I don’t need the caffeine.
playing with my pet rabbits for hours on end.
realizing I’m now a senior in college.
Yeah. It’s happening. New college students, they tell you your years will pass by quickly. Believe the rumors.
I cannot form nice sentences any longer. For at least another two weeks. It’s all lazy mornings with my pet bunnies and sunshine.
And I have exhausted my English-language skills. They will need these two weeks to recover, I fear. Yup. So.
I produced twenty-one new pages of writing in the last three days at Butler. Altogether, my three final papers clocked in at exactly thirty-three pages.
Eight pages of dance history. Nine for a paper on Nathaniel Hawthorne and his deviant characters and Hepzibah’s shop and the railroad á la Christopher Castiglia and Leo Marx. Sixteen on Emily Dickinson. I say she not only deserves the attention of the postmodern scholarship community, but she also possesses herself a postmodern understanding of language.
If you examine her ideas of death and Heaven and knowledge, you find that her binary oppositions are wonky. Death is connected to absolutes and divinity and comfort. Hmmm.
I wrote a paper over spring break on Emily Dickinson, after reading a hundred and fourteen of Emily Dickinson’s poems. For my final, I researched the current discourse surrounding Dickinson from a postmodernist viewpoint and revised my paper to place it into conversation with the scholarly community.
And that’s what a dance/English major writes at the end of junior semester.
My friend is lurking over my shoulder, discussing the difference in the coefficients of friction in the front and back seats of Rebecca Black‘s friend’s car as she goes to school on Friday. Or something like that. Mu equals twenty-one point eight in the front and ten in the back, but she has to carry the books in the front. A hot air balloon passing by overhead creates a wind with force equal to 15 N, heading due south. What is the relative speed of the cereal bowl in Rebecca’s lap?
This is odd because
1. I am now on my two week summer vacation and shouldn’t be thinking about physics.
2. There was no hot air balloon in the song, or the actual online problem I’m mocking.
Well, aren’t we good college students? Excuse my nonsense–I guess I’m in summer mode after all.
The usual crush of final papers is, well, crushing me. I am happy to report, however, the completion and subsequent printing of one of the three papers still between me and summer vacation. Take that, Nathaniel Hawthorne/Christopher Castiglia/Leo Marx! Yeah, you don’t scare me.
(Summer! Two weeks of freedom! Then nine weeks of research! Then three weeks of an independent study! Then… oh wait, then the fall semester starts.)
I still have to finish my dance history paper on contemporary choreographer Maguy Marin. I finally asked my follow dancers about viewing the works of Marin. The guy down the hall owns Cendrillon. Whomp.
And I have to revise my paper on Emily Dickinson I turned in for my EN 185 class over spring break. Instead of writing another paper, the department head is letting me go to secondary sources to position my argument on Dickinson’s postmodern understanding of language within current discourse. I found the perfect book: Jed Deppman’s Trying to Think with Emily Dickinson. Now I just have to do a semester’s worth of work to revise, since this revision is replacing my second paper.
Ho-hum. It’s back to work after a fried rice break.
Quick update on last week, with another, better post maybe to follow: Last week was production week. We had to help load in at the theater, then ran the ballet on Monday. I dropped the paper on which I was writing notes for a dance professor under the bleachers and had to finangle my way under them to retrieve the sheet. Embarrassing.
We ran the ballet on Tuesday in the studio, then went to the theater for spacing. Wednesday was a tech run on stage, dinner, then another full run onstage with the orchestra. Thursday was full dress rehearsal. Friday, we had classes off (except choreography and academics)… and opening night!
Aurora's tutu, photo by the extremely talented Anna. Visit her photography site at http://annadarla.blogspot.com. Or else.
My dress rehearsal went really well, and the shows felt good too. I mean, there were the wobbles. There are always little things to be improved. I decided with a good friend that if we were ever perfect, there would be no reason to try again; without something to strive for, there would only be a disappointing fall in quality. Human imperfection makes the act of art-making meaningful.
And in the last show, the four of us fairies in the Prologue finally all turned at the same time. Better late than never? My family came to town as well, and there were lots of introductions all around. I can’t wait to go home in less than a week! Just three more papers… which I will now continue writing.
This is supposed to be an artsily-cropped picture of meeting friends and family after the show.
To be continued/supplemented? We’ll see. Good luck to all working on finals, and good luck to all graduating seniors, in high school or in college. Next year that will be me.
Things I have learned:
There is an inversely proportional relationship between closeness to production week/the end of the semester and my attention span.
There is a proportional relationship between Facebook use and attempts at writing papers.
There is a exponential relationship between production week and the average amount of Febreze used.
Cookie dough cupcakes from The Flying Cupcake are very good.
Maguy Marin‘s choreography is extremely difficult to find online or in a library close to Butler’s campus if you are looking for a complete, uncut piece.
Bites of cupcake times three equal failed attempts at finding extant and unabridged choreographic works by Marin.
My dance history paper is not going so well at the moment.
Cinderella, with doll heads
Does anyone know where I can view complete works of Marin? I would love to watch Cendrillon, but at this point, I am not picky.