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The Afterward

When I started this blog I knew that Harford 3C would not last forever, but I had every intention of keeping this blog going for as long as possible and keeping up with the 3C girls even after the time came for us to separate. But, as I have not even been able to keep up with this blog for the entirety of our time in 3C (due mostly to me losing interest in reality), I have decided to end this blog. I was going to delete it, but the suitemates objected. So, here is one last entry. It's what will probably happen to us all after we leave 3C next week. I'm writing it in the past tense because afterwards are always in the past tense.


After living with English majors for a year, Kendall was tired of the English language all together. She decided to study abroad in Spain for a semester. While studying abroad, Kendall met and fell in love with a man named Pablo, but she refused to date him because he had red hair like hers, and she wanted to be special. She then met another man named Pablo, who had brown hair. He really liked Kendall, but she refused to date him because he had an unusually narrow forehead and it weirded her out. Finally, Kendall met a very attractive blond-haired man. His name was Pablo. Strangely enough, he spoke no Spanish or English, as he had been raised by tangerines. But, Kendall loved this third Pablo (who had nice hair, but not so nice as to be better than hers). They were married at a 24 hour drive-thru wedding chapel by a Spanish speaking man named Raul who they were not entirely sure was qualified to marry people. But, it didn't matter. Kendall and her third Pablo moved to a modestly sized apartment in southern Spain (it strongly resembled the Bat Cave), where they had dance parties every night.

Alisha thought that she had secured a room in WAC's new dorms in which to spend her junior year of college, but when she returned to campus in the fall, the dorms still looked exactly the same as they had looked for many many months. Alisha learned that the construction workers on campus were not actually construction workers, but actors. All this time the loud noises they had been making had only been sound effects. She congratulated the actors on the realism of their noise making, but was distraught to realize that they had not built anything and that she would have to live in a tent in the CAC. That was a tough time for Alisha, but it turned out to all be worth it when she finally achieved universal peace and was put in charge of the whole world.

Laura and Claire stuck together that year after they left 3C, sharing a messy, but quiet room in an all girls dorm. Little did anyone know that they were both leading double lives-- Laura, as a web comic artist, and Claire, as a disco queen. Laura eventually became seriously famous for her artistic skills and exceptional hair. She was invited to display her art all over the world, and became a touring graffiti artist. Claire did not become famous, but she did become very very rich by winning several important disco contests. After one major disco competition, Dominoes hired her as their discoing spokesperson, and Claire never went without pizza again. When she tired of the glamor, she settled down to be a lawyer. Laura too tired of the excitement of being a traveling graffiti artist, and took up writing Biology text books and playing extreme sports.

Erin moved into a suite on the Western Shore with some girls from the basketball team. Erin's new suitemates all dressed alike in matching athletic shorts and t-shirts, and they made fun of Erin for being an awkward, non-athletic English major. Erin wrote an Elm article about being a writer-nerd in a suite full of very tall people. She was the thing that was not like the others-- the Kendall of her Western Shore suite, if you will. Erin started going to basketball games to try to fit in and to be supportive of her suitemates, but she couldn't stop herself from studying the sociology of sports teams. She received honors on the sociological study of Jane Austen's novels she completed for her combined English and Sociology thesis, but she couldn't decide whether she wanted to go to graduate school for Sociology or English. She decided to do both.

Alexis and I moved to an undisclosed off campus location. We refused to tell anyone where we had gone, and, though they wondered, no one ever looked. I planted strawberries and pink Gerbera daisies (which I insisted would grow in neat and orderly rows). Alexis got up very early in the morning to student teach high school math, and we felt like grown ups. I spent the majority of my time writing my thesis on Tom Stoppard and carefully composing short pieces of fiction. Our apartment had no dust, and almost no furniture. We got along nicely, until one day when I tried to fold up Alexis's socks with her in them. She had dealt with having all of her belongings lined up in rows and stacked in piles, with almost falling over every time I tried to square an area rug she was standing on, and even with me alphabetizing her breakfast, but she drew the line at being folded up in her socks.

Since Alexis loved to travel, had always wanted to grow up to be Asian, and was very tall and thin, she moved to Tokyo to become a runway model. In her spare time, she solved several mathematical theorems that had been bothering mathematicians for the past few hundred years, and she wrote an award winning novel about living with someone who vacuums crumbs off of your legs as you're eating bread, has daily asthma attacks during which she gasps, "I'll figure you out some day, Tom Stoppard," just before passing out, occasionally lays on the floor and cries about how she likes the letter B because the top matches the bottom (but she just doesn't like it as a grade because it's not an A), but makes pleasantly refreshing salads.

After Alexis moved to Tokyo, I withdrew from society once and for all, taking up residence in a spacious tree house with wireless internet access, and planting many strawberries, which I ate during the summer. In winter, I hibernated, except on Christmas when I woke up to go sledding and check my e-mail. I befriended a Panda Bear, who I learned how to speak to, and taught him to read over my short stories for me. I also trained him to fetch library books, for which I would give him some peanut butter. I don't know where I got peanut butter. I guess I must have just found it in the woods.

We all had fond memories of that time we lived in Harford 3C and had a wall of rhetoric. Sometimes we missed those times, but we realized we had to move on.

Thesis Proposal, Obsession, Whatever

I am so incredibly excited about my thesis. Professor Volansky agreed to be my thesis advisor, and I am really truly writing my proposal on Tom Stoppard. I am so psyched to have an advisor and to be writing on Tom Stoppard and just to be writing a thesis (or rather a proposal for one, at this point). I don't think I can express in writing how I feel about this project without overusing the word excited, becoming extremely repetitive, and sounding like an idiot.

I wish I didn't have to do stuff for my classes, so I could just do this. Over Spring Break I'm going to reread the plays I want to write on, read some criticisms on Tom Stoppard that I took out of the library today, and hopefully come up with an argument. I know that I want to write on doubles-- language with double meaning and plays in plays, but I don't know what I want to say about it. I guess I can't say that I think it's really great.

I think that with this thesis, in order for my brain to not explode, I am going to have to think about one thing at a time, just what I have to do next. So, now that I have an advisor and a topic, I need to just think about an argument, which I think might be the very most important part.

I can't believe it's March and these proposals are due in April. I feel like I have so very little time, but I'm trying very hard to stay calm. I think it's helping that I really like Tom Stoppard and I really like research, but I also really do not know what a thesis proposal should look like.

I printed out the thesis proposal guidelines from the website. I think I understand what needs to be included in the proposal, but I can't picture what the structure will look like. I really want to see one. I sent Facebook messages to some people who graduated last year asking them if I can see their thesis proposals. I would really like to see how other people have set theirs up.

All I've been able to find online about thesis proposals is tips for writing them. I was hoping for some sort of template to go from, but I haven't looked that hard for one. I think my time would be better spent gathering sources and forming an argument. Maybe I can ask what a thesis proposal looks like at the Writing Center. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

Proposals Looming

Almost two weeks ago Erin, Alexis, and I received an e-mail about the Senior Capstone Experience (actually, Alexis didn't receive it, but I always check to see who besides me an e-mail has been sent to, so I realized that Alexis was missing from the list, was concerned that she would be uninformed and would not graduate and would have to become a shoe-shiner, and forwarded it to her). I saw the e-mail before Erin because I check my e-mail thirty seven times a day and ran into her room whining, "Erin, Erin, have you checked your e-mail?" Then I laid on her floor looking traumatized while she read the e-mail, and we proceeded to panic together.

Erin and I have been discussing our impending theses all year. The word thesis has frightened me since I was a freshman. All year we have been enormously aware of the April thesis proposal deadline for those of us who will be seniors next year (and who are not taking comps. like Alexis, although we don't blame her because she has a double major with math (I know what you're thinking, and yes she did need that e-mail I forwarded her; it was for comps. too.)). Erin and I have also been quite aware of the fact that we would need topics and advisors before April, and we have been talking about what our topics might be all year.

But actually finding an e-mail in our inboxes meant April is soon. I've been saying that April was soon since we got back from Winter Break. Erin has been denying it, but it's true. April is soon. It takes me a month to write a paper. I can't imagine how long I'll need to write something as important as a thesis proposal. I better start last year.

So, I met with Professor Moncrief who is the chair of our English department, and I said that I really like Tom Stoppard. (It's true. I really like Tom Stoppard.) She said that either she or Professor Cousineau would probably be the best advisor for Tom Stoppard, depending on whether I wanted to focus more on the drama side of things or the modern English literature side. So, because she said I should, I talked to Professor Cousineau (meaning that I have talked to not one but two professors this week, which I generally try to avoid as I am afraid of professors, figures of authority, and grown-ups in general).

Professor Cousineau said that the best advisor for Tom Stoppard would be Professor Volansky in the drama department. Am I being shunned by the English department? I wondered. I didn't realize that advisors from other departments were an option. I have long worried that when it came time for theses no one would want to be my advisor. I mean, I'm not really the kind of student that professors like. I never participate in class voluntarily and when asked a question I generally forget how to communicate. Really, now that the time is near, I think there is a good chance that I will not be able to find an advisor.

I haven't had very good luck with academic advisors. Not that I haven't liked them, I just haven't kept any of them for very long. Or they haven't kept me. The same thing happened to me with guidance counselors in middle school and high school. Nearly every one of my guidance counselors retired the year I had them, except for one who went to a different school. It's kind of funny and I know it has nothing to do with me, but it's also kind of annoying.

Professor Moncrief thought that Professor Volansky was a good idea too, so I sent her an e-mail. But I don't really see why she would agree to work with me when she probably has drama majors to advise and also when I had CNW (which is a class freshman have to take) with her and she probably already thinks I'm dumb from that because, like I said, I don't make a very good impression in class. I never say anything smart in class and if I say anything at all it's probably something weird. I don't mean to be so weird, but weird things just come out of my mouth (like frogs). I'm worried.

Erin is worried too. She is trying to do a combine thesis for sociology and English using the book 1984. Apparently, the sociology department is with her on it, but the English department is not. She's having trouble finding an English advisor. I said maybe she could get one from the music department or something.

I am actually really excited about writing my thesis because I like writing research papers, and I hope I get to stick with Tom Stoppard because I think he is probably the smartest person alive. I just need an advisor. And an argument. But I'd feel better if I had an advisor.



Side note: Senior Capstone Experience sounds really weird to me. Capstone makes me think of headstone (maybe because it has the word senior in front of it and old people die a lot), and experience sounds like... actually, I don't know what it sounds like, but it doesn't sound like a test or a paper.

A Future English Major?

My friend Shelby (one of my best friends from my Adirondack Children's Troupe days) is coming to visit me tomorrow and staying until Tuesday, and I am incredibly excited to see her, for one, but also to show her around. Shelby is a junior in high school, and Washington College is one of the schools she's considering.

My friends have pointed out that I will have graduated by the time Shelby goes here, if this is where she decides to go, and I realize that. I just think Shelby would like it here, and she would make such a good English major.

She says that she wants to major in Drama and possibly minor or double major in English, but, just like I knew Laura wanted to major in English and minor in art and not the other way around (she has declared), I know that Shelby wants to be an English major.

Really, I think people should just save themselves some time and do what I tell them. When my brother Nate and I were in high school, he, for some reason unknown to anyone, decided to take physics.

"Why would you take physics?" I asked, "When you've already met the minimum number of required science classes?"

He said that he was good at science and that it would look good on his transcript.

I said, "You're going to art school. No one is going to care that you've taken physics. When, as a photography major, are you going to ever need physics?"

But he did not listen, and he signed up for physics. I could not understand this, as I would never subject myself to a science class without cause. "What is wrong with him?" I wondered.

Several weeks into his physics class Nate did not like it. He was having trouble, and he didn't like his teacher. "Drop it," I said. "Drop it now. Drop it fast. Drop it before the drop/add deadline."

But he did not listen, the drop/add deadline passed, and he was stuck with physics, which he hated. I said, "I told you to drop physics. I told you not to sign up for it in the first place. But you didn't listen to me. And now you are taking physics for no reason."

Now Nate is in art school taking photography, color theory (apparently, color has a theory), and public speaking. You know what he's not taking? Physics.

That's my point. Physics is a waste of time for artists, and Nate has always so obviously been an artist. Shelby is obviously an English major. She is like us. She belongs here, and that is why I'm excited for her visit.

I plan to fill her sixteen-year-old-head with as many English-majory thoughts as I possibly can. Not that I don't think she should major in drama. She can double major; that's fine. (It makes so much more sense than taking physics.) It's just that she needs to realize how important English is to her.

Ten Reasons This Week Was Awesome

-Two days of warm weather. I love sunny days. I ran to the gym. Because it was warm enough to wear shorts instead of sweat pants. And I've been wearing skirts all week, and I got to wear my new blue tights that I got at Target for $1.50.

-Pancakes in the dinning hall. Who doesn't love breakfast for dinner?

-I had a dream that someone I had an argument with a long time ago apologized to me, and I feel like I made up with that person even though I actually didn't. Good enough.

-I finished the first draft of a short story about a singing toaster for Advanced Fiction, and there are two exciting things about that. One is that it has been far too long since I've written something ridiculous and the other is that I like writing for classes because then other people have to read it.

-I love purple grapes, and I fell out of my chair laughing because they were just really exciting. Or possibly because I've just been really hyper this week.

-Someone said hi to me unexpectedly.

-I didn’t get called on in Modernist Fiction, and I didn't have to talk about Heart of Darkness (but we still have one day of it left). I know I still have to participate in that class eventually. Maybe when we get to The Great Gatsby. When I read it in high school I didn't realize that the narrator was funny, but I started rereading it, and he is.

-I did get called on in Advanced Fiction on Wednesday and, as usual, I sounded like I had no idea what was going on because I could not remember that particular part of Aspects of the Novel (which I thought was mostly boring anyway because it talks in detail about all these novels I’ve never read). But, I wasn’t that upset because I’ve participated in that class at least three times, and I read my assignment voluntarily on Monday. Voluntarily. No lie.

-I was feeling uncharacteristically brave, so I e-mailed someone from my internship last summer to ask for suggestions for applying for internships for this summer, and she e-mailed me back. So, since that went okay, I think I’m going to e-mail more people.

-I also made a phone call and left my dorm twice to attend public events. In public.

Writers' Theatre!

I am very excited about Writers' Theatre this semester. Since I only have three classes, I have much more time to dedicate to Writers' Theatre than I did last semester and I feel so much more organized.

I have scheduled not one or two, but three events. When I became president of Writers' Theatre I really wanted to add new events, but, as you know if you've been reading this blog, that did not happen. I was very pleased with the way our fall show turned out, but I was a little disappointed that we didn't do anything new.

Last semester a club member came up with the idea of having a reading for the campus of monologues and dialogs that we had written. I put others in charge of it, but it never happened-- my fault for being too busy to look after the club properly.

So, no more of that. I have scheduled the reading and will be keeping up with what is going on with that. And I have also scheduled-- what I'm really excited about-- a club member written one act.

A club member is writing her own complete one act play that other club members will be performing later in the semester. I think that this is exactly the kind of thing that Writers' Theatre should be encouraging, and it's exactly what I have wanted to do since I became president. I am so excited that someone is interested in writing a one act and putting it on.

I am very optimistic about Writers' Theatre this semester. We had our first meeting this week, and we came up with some really original ideas for the murder mystery. Our script revision talks got off to a really slow start last semester, but I think the end result was good and I think we're going to do basically the same thing this semester (hopefully with a less slow start because we are going to have a lot to get through with three events going on).

Don't tell anyone, but I don't really have anything better to do than drive the members of Writers' Theatre out of their minds with reminders about things. This could be dangerous, as, according to certain suitemates, I am picky. This accusation was made over something I said about an Elm article written by one of my suitemates, but I don't think asking for information to be accurate is being picky.

Anyway, come to our stuff this semester because I think it's going to rock.