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De stressed

Let’s see, when last we left our intrepid heroine (or \”plucky girl detective\” which is a phrase used on the back of a chick lit book. It’s funny now, but the sad thing is that they were totally serious. And yes, the front of the book featured shoes and feet. Seriously, Chick Litters! Stop being shoe strumpets! Fricking schlock tease!), she was still trying to come to grips with the fact that she doesn’t have enough time in the day.

Next semester, I’m taking a Lit class. I think it will be my first official Lit class as a graduate student, although really, my first one under Professor O.Henry almost counted as a Lit class. Not only do I know nothing about this professor, from e-mail discussions with her, we’ll be reading a lot of Gertrude Stein. I think I’ve mentioned before that, considering I have a bachelor’s degree in English Lit, I have a very narrow background in traditional literature. Sure, I could pretty much teach a class on Native American authors and perhaps write a dissertation on gothic British fiction, but I somehow managed to graduate (with honors in the major) without having touched Stein, Woolf, Hemingway, Nabokov, Vonnegut, Murdoch, Austen, Waugh, Ford, Updike and just about any other book written before 1965. Except Shakespeare. I had lots of Shakespeare, as though he somehow would bring credibility to my reading oeuvre. Whatever.

So, I’m excited. New semester. New books. A class with people who are not necessarily in the creative writing program.

Note to self: must endeavor to sound smart.