Medieval

The article about violence in education, combined with the lecture on education as torture in Pedagogy couldn't have been better timed. Particularly Prudentius' image of the scholar dying of a thousand stylus stabs.

We're approaching midterm, which at the grad level is not about exams, but fighting apathy and the mental exhaustion. I can't complain too much actually, since unlike some grads here, I am not teaching or in production. And unlike Lil Sis at OU, I am only taking 3 classes. So it's not even the work itself as much as all the little stylus pokes, like fighting financial aid, or adapting to the California-ness, or reckoning with all the little things I had not anticipated. Scholarship involves an element of masochism. Hurts so good (like my trip to the dentist this afternoon). And sometimes you don't realise the extent of your injuries until there is actually blood dripping.

All of this came to a head on Wednesday night, when I had finally committed to going to Athens to visit. Found the one window where I don't have African Theatre one week, combined with a pass on my Chicano Studies class. I accepted the expense, its inherent frivolousness, and the work I would have to do academically to accommodate it, because I value my sanity, and I miss my Ohio life. Then I read that the class I was going to teach had been rescheduled, inconveniently the same day my final paper is due in Pedagogy (even though it is only week 8 of 11). And since I still hadn't gotten any feedback on my topic proposals, it wasn't something I could churn out early. And all of these conflicts made the impractical completely impossible. There was mini-meltdown.

When I started this process, I accepted that I would have to make sacrifices. I didn't realise that I would have to sacrifice not only a social life here and now, but also the opportunity to maintain any of the other lives I have created along the way. The phrase "What the hell is the point?" rang out. But, being me, I responded to this by eating cake and doing research. Just what is required of me; how long will it take; what are my options. Ultimately, I can be less than social or happy for 4 years of my life, and have the degree to spend the rest of my life doing what I want. Or I could drop out, be miserable in some desk job for alot longer than 4 years, and have to live with the fact that I give up (which I just cannot do). Really, academia is my natural habitat.

I have come up with a list of alternatives and new academic reasons for flying back to the east coast. Not the least of which is a dance conference at Hollins (a short 4 hour drive from Athens), the theme of which is Global Feminisms. Hello!

on Pandora: "Pale Shelter" - Tears for Fears