I am writing to you now at the end of battle before a final, decisive moment in my academia comes to pass. The war has been fought thoroughly with few casualties, but there are losses and gains that will be remembered for years to come. I bravely stepped into Dr. Kim's arena to fight my best, but was met with significant defeat that still stings. Yet, my close reading of "The Waste Land" stands as an astonishing breath of potential success. The final to match it, for Dr. Knickerbocker's closely reading poems course, was one that I feel great confidence about.
Treat boxes from Pizza Hut cannot be delivered on Thanksgiving. I found this out firsthand over the most recent break. It was a reprieve from the heart of a penultimate battle before the final exam storm would come. T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" demanded a close reading essay, as well as Poe's "City in the Sea". A preface for "Let Loose" was also due. As much as I enjoy apocalyptic poetry and stories about spectral hands choking people out, there was much to do. These essays represented the last skirmishes for the longest phase of a great war.
The amazing diversity of people and views at C of I never ceases to amaze me. For example, tonight I went to an event put on by the Arabic-Hebrew Club celebrating three holidays: Hanukkah, Eid Al-Mawlid An-Nawbi, and Christmas. These are, respectively, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian holidays that are all celebrated in December this year.
Sausage. Mulled wine. Red Cabbage. Certainly, such warrior grub would stagnate and get boring after a few days, right? Nope, think again. There’s something to be said for Hungarian tenacity, especially when it comes to making and eating food.
If there weren’t a Thanksgiving Break shoved in there between Undead Weak and Dead Week I would have lost my ever-loving mind.
There is no part of the obscene amount of homework assignments, busy work, and essays piled on us by our feudal lord professors that I am thankful for. How dare they? HOW DARE THEY?
I’m kidding (kind of), those sweet people are just doing their jobs. I’m just very bitter because I spent this whole break working on homework instead of gorging myself and watching terrible Christmas movies.
As it turns out, I like cooking. I’m also a native English speaker in a house full of people who, well, aren’t. Thus, I’ve established a system: I proofread their papers and help them with homework, they teach me tasty recipes. It’s the holiday season and you’re going to be eating anyway. Why not impress your friends and family with something new? Here are 3 dishes to get started with, 1 desert, 1 light meal, and 1 behemoth heavy meal that will keep you full for days. Just two things to note: 1) Vegetables in the UK are really small when compared to what we have in the States.
Shards of ceramic are not fun to step on. I have been meaning to clean them away for some time, but my schedule has not permitted for a moment of such cognizance. Furthermore, I enjoy the poetic element of having to avoid walking on my own eggshells. These little slivers came from a teacup and its abrupt dispersion after a rough meeting with the door to my single. The reason behind this otherworldly outburst is a simple one that I think everyone has faced, or should face. My dear friend and glorious patriot, the grand companion through academia, has passed on.
Everyone always tells you senior year is rough. But I stopped trusting people after the presidential election of 1800, so I never believed them. The joke is on me, because I’m essentially busy every minute of every day. Even now I am multitasking—see, I am writing this blog but I am also crying on the inside. My suffering is nothing if not efficient.