thesis // microcephaly

My senior thesis topic has been approved! Apocalypse in modern literature. Yep; that is, in fact, all I have so far. But it's a start! And I have a pretty good list of texts to begin looking at. So far, it's an almost definite yes to the Butler, and maybes on the others.

Octavia E. Butler's The Parable of the Sower
Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle
Frank Herbert's Dune
Phillip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Pat Frank's Alas, Babylon
Ursula K. LeGuin's The Telling
Cormac McCarthy's The Road

I've also begun seeing a new therapist here in Maryland; Dr. Lockley, as she will be known here, seems to be a very intelligent and emotionally conscious woman, and the two sessions we've had thus far were very cathartic, and have already made me feel slightly better. Senior year, here I come. :D

AWESOME.

Someone was linked to my blog by Googling "Catherine Barkley breaking stereotypes."

Hi, person!

How I Spent My Memorial Day Weekend

{in list form}

I:
- relearned hospital corners;
- picked crocheting back up;
- also picked up more yarn than I'll need in a long time;
- was almost hit by lightning;
- didn't get to go swimming;
- dried a lot of dishes;
- went for a Sheetz run;
- camera-whored;
- taught my uncle how to blog;
- slept pretty damn well;
- pulled a fast one on my mom {with my grandmother as an accomplice}
- taught my grandmother how to play Cleopatra;
- actually beat Anna at Cleopatra;
- ate really well;
- was harassed by a bee;
- took the scenic route;
- was happy.

four days.

Four days and the semester from hell is over. I can't wait--but at the same time, there are things I'm seriously dreading. This semester showed me who my real friends are, and I don't want to be separated from them for so long. And next semester we're seniors; the dynamic changes. Soon we'll be going our own ways. I don't want to think about that right now.

I've been writing more; I've got a sister blog to this one for posting anything new there. I may even try to pick up on The Violet Hour where I left off--that is, picking character names. The plot's pretty solid and I had a few brainwaves while chatting with Karina and listening to Cal's masterful mixes, so maybe I'll actually get somewhere with it this summer. I'd like to. Prochazka is too great a character not to use, even if he's dead before the novel even starts. (Er, spoiler alert? Hardly.)

I'll have a different room next year, too! I've been in this room for two years. It's seen me through a lot. I'm eager to see what the new nest brings. I have a few inklings... the room number is, to my synaesthetic mind, white-red-yellow-blue, which may seem dramatically kindergartenesque, but really--all colors come from the last three and go into the former. There's no end to possibility there. And it's facing campus, which hopefully means a more successful and focused academic year.

[Yes, I do in fact analyse real life as if it was something out of a novel.]

On that note: If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Calvino is a glorious mindfuck. Do yourself a favor and drop by the library to pick it up. Also, Vonnegut has not disappointed my expectations. Cat's Cradle is wondrous.

I've also been going over White Noise (DeLillo) again for my American Lit final on Monday. I read it sophomore year of high school; an ex-English teacher lent it to me, said I'd enjoy it even though I wasn't in his class for the assignment. It was funny then, but I didn't get it. First of all, I wasn't properly attuned to the absurdist elements, and my literary sensitivities weren't honed sharply enough to appreciate DeLillo's style. Now that I'm reading it now, the leitmotifs of death, pop culture, and the replacement of the real by the virtual--not to mention the titular white noise--are striking seriously unsettling chords. The book made me uncomfortable when I read it in high school; now it's like reading into my subconscious mind, which is always seriously disturbing.

Especially when your subconscious mind speaks through Don Delillo.

Ah well.

Ending on a good note (it's a new goal): Karina Overacker is my hero. Also, earplugs are amazing things.

Go fish.

I have only one thing to say: omega-3 is amazing.

Okay, so I always have more than one thing to say, but that thought is at the forefront right now. Though I'm dragging at the moment (long day, whew), I've been in such a better frame of mind the last two weeks, and I'm positive it's because of the vitamins Dr. S recommended. Even when I have my scattered breakdowns, and even though I'm still having difficulty with the agoraphobia and panic, I'm at least in good spirits, which puts me in a better position to combat this. And combat I do.

The weekend was wonderful; Easter is always an exciting time around my family. I'm not Christian myself, but most of my family does celebrate the holiday; then it's my birthday, my grandmother's, and my oldest cousin's, as well as my parents' anniversary. In summary: there's a lot of cake floating around, what what.

So since we had a five day weekend for Easter, I spent about a day and a half at home before migrating north with the fam to join up with the larger fam (that is, the Kling grandparents and the three main branches from their proverbial trunk, totaling fourteen people in all, though only thirteen could make it). There was a lot of food, a few movies, some reminiscing, a metric ton of chocolate, a few dozen People magazines, and much love. I didn't go to church on Sunday (I was the only one) but while the Protestant branches of the family (including grandparents) were at the second service I stayed home with the early-rising Catholic branch of the family, who had already returned from mass. From there we progressed to the country club for Easter luncheon, and I witnessed the closest thing my grandmother can muster to a homicidal rage. (The silly people had written down 'four' instead of 'fourteen' for the reservation; that was quite an ordeal.) That was our little family drama for the weekend--and the first degree burns another cousin suffered, courtesy of an impertinent teapot. Aside from Sarah's burns and my grandmother's wrath, it was really a wonderful weekend.

And a nice little haul, too! I'm honestly not that materialistic. I mean, I enjoy having nice things, and I enjoy receiving gifts--anyone who claims not to is fooling themselves--but a trinket or two, and I'm pleased as punch. My Easter basket is small as always, but I got a good bit of chocolate, some new makeup (which I needed), and Slumdog Millionaire, which was wonderful. I also got a new top from my mom, and my parents have promised me prescription sunglasses this summer, which I'm looking forward to immensely.

Speaking of summer: four more weeks! Three and a half, really! Well, no, okay. Four. But I'm going to tell myself three and a half because it makes me feel better. And until those four weeks are up I'll just plow through and lavish affection on my amazing friends.

And--not to abuse the transition, but--speaking of friends, I'm seeing Jill and Mike on Friday, and probably Jon, too! I'm looking forward to it. I miss them spades--they've both done so much for me, and hanging out with Jon is always an adventure.

For now, though, I think I'll just curl up with some Calvino and a pair of earplugs. The peace of mind the latter give me is totally worth having to turn my alarm up full blast.

[Apologies to the neighbors.]

So remember that paper?

That's history. Now I've just got a chapter and a half of psych left to memorize; Rabbit Run to finish (and write about, in comparison to Roth); a French exam to review for (easy peasy lemon squeezy); and... oh crap. What was that? Oh, I think that's it. Hopefully. I have it written down somewhere.

(NB: Forgive any typos; I'm working on the World's Worst Laptop while I'm at home).

Estas son las mañanitas

That's right! It's my birthday! Well, yesterday was, anyway. 21! I can now legally purchase the alcohol I can't drink because of my medication! It's still exciting, anyway. ^_^

Wednesday night I celebrated with Dan and Ambka, my best friends at college and ghetto godparents; we had pizza and watched A Christmas Story and generally had a wonderful time. They're pretty amazing people. Then in the morning we left on the 8:40 shuttle (the 9:00 ferry to Manhattan) and got a birthday breakfast at Penn Station. I really can't express how grateful I am for how wonderful they've been to me, especially as I'm recovering. They waited with me until my train came and texted me on the trip down to make sure I was all right. I don't need coddling--I just need encouragement and support, and they have done so much for me. Even though I'm still recovering, progress is progress, and I'm well on my way.

When I got to Union Station in DC, my dad and sister were waiting for me; the trip home involved all sorts of hijinks (including defrauding the Metro of $2 when the lines for exit fare were too long and my card was meant for regular travel, not rush hour).

Upon arriving at home there was a joyous reunion with my cats and then, when she got off work, my mom; then there was Greek for dinner (spanakopita and hummus!) and a carrot cake for dessert. All in all, it was a pretty wonderful birthday--one I'll recount more fully (and eloquently) when I'm back at school and have a better laptop, because this one is frustrating the hell out of me.

A tout a l'heure!

I should be writing the paper due tomorrow…

But instead I'm letting an episode of The Office buffer while I try out this new blogging function in Word 2007.

In other news, The Agoraphobia Chronicles continue! …They're really not that interesting, though, so, let's skip that. Things that do interest me at the moment:

1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I blame Tiffany.
   
2. Human response to vocal modulation. It's actually pretty cool. I've been doing a few minor experiments, of which I will write later.
   
3. Metafiction. I've always been fascinated by it, really—at least, ever since I learned of its existence—but reading Madame Bovary renewed my interest. I'm considering a second thesis topic, now—possibly something about the metafictional element in realist fiction of the 19^th century? Focusing on Mme. and Northanger Abbey.
   
4. Reinvention. I've changed my name and my hairstyle; what's next?
   

Yeah, I gave myself bangs. It worked out pretty well, actually, I think; if my career as a novelist/professor falls through, I can always pursue cosmetology. Or maybe I could be a masseuse! I do give damn good massages. And working at a spa sounds like fun. Great benefits, hm?

I really should work on that paper, though.