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When I woke up today, I found my world glazed over with a layer of ice. Walking on the sidewalks and pavements was a delicate process, and even walking on grass was treacherous. Before I went to school, I had to chisel my car out from under the layer of ice. After office hours and class (during which time snow and freezing rain continued), I had to chisel it out a second time.
Have decided that I may take up ice sculpture as a new hobby in order to hone car excavation skills. Could become the Edward (or would that be Edwina) Scissorhands of ice sculpture.
Today, we critiqued essays in class. Formalist analysis of a short story from class. Normally, everyone picks one (if I'm very lucky, two) stories. I must have been very, very lucky, because there were four main choices. The two stories getting the most attention were Kelly Link's "Travels with the Snow Queen" from her fabulous collection Stranger Things Happen and Charles de Lint's "The Moon Is Drowning As I Sleep," a Newford tale from his Dreams Underfoot collection. The two second-tier choices were Neil Gaiman's "Murder Mysteries" from his collection Smoke and Mirrors, Glen Hirschberg's "Mr. Dark's Carnival" from the Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, and Ray Bradbury's "The Veldt."
Because of needing to critique papers for today and grade a batch of journals, I didn't write much on the conference paper. My bad. It's hard to summon the energy/enthusiasm for it after a long day of work/school.
The clock is ticking. The hour is late. You are all invited to pop by my LJ and threaten to tie me down and make me listen to a rotating selection of Britney Spears, John Mayer, and Michael Jackson until I tearfully cave in and begin to work on my paper. Or until my head explodes like one of the aliens from Tim Burton's Mars Attacks.
Have decided that I may take up ice sculpture as a new hobby in order to hone car excavation skills. Could become the Edward (or would that be Edwina) Scissorhands of ice sculpture.
Today, we critiqued essays in class. Formalist analysis of a short story from class. Normally, everyone picks one (if I'm very lucky, two) stories. I must have been very, very lucky, because there were four main choices. The two stories getting the most attention were Kelly Link's "Travels with the Snow Queen" from her fabulous collection Stranger Things Happen and Charles de Lint's "The Moon Is Drowning As I Sleep," a Newford tale from his Dreams Underfoot collection. The two second-tier choices were Neil Gaiman's "Murder Mysteries" from his collection Smoke and Mirrors, Glen Hirschberg's "Mr. Dark's Carnival" from the Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, and Ray Bradbury's "The Veldt."
Because of needing to critique papers for today and grade a batch of journals, I didn't write much on the conference paper. My bad. It's hard to summon the energy/enthusiasm for it after a long day of work/school.
The clock is ticking. The hour is late. You are all invited to pop by my LJ and threaten to tie me down and make me listen to a rotating selection of Britney Spears, John Mayer, and Michael Jackson until I tearfully cave in and begin to work on my paper. Or until my head explodes like one of the aliens from Tim Burton's Mars Attacks.
