stuck on campus

Sometimes I'm too nice. I emailed a student saying that I would be on campus till 11:30 so she could meet with me during that time if she wanted, but of course she hasn't checked her email, but theoretically she could still stop by...so I have to stay here. I'm very hungry and want to go home and have a quiet/internetless environment in which to do my homework, but alas, I cannot due to the fact that I still have a half hour remaining of my self-imposed imprisonment. And so, I blog. I have found blogging to be a great time-wasting device.

Class last night: I went in expecting to leave completely depressed (like I usually do). Fortunately, I did not leave entirely decimated. My emotions remained intact, which is always a good sign.

There's this really smart girl in that class. She seems to have memorized everything we've ever read and is able to tie all the different theorists together in very specific ways. She always says genius things. It's intimidating, but I've also come to terms with it in an odd sort of way. I will never be that intelligent, and it's become quite okay to languish in my mediocrity. It makes my fleeting moments of clarity and genius that much more wonderful. ;)

And, in any case, I got my Weber paper back, and got an A-. And not only that, but his only problem with it was EXACTLY what my problem with it was. So if only I had had my epiphany BEFORE class time and could have fixed the problem before handing it in, I may very well have gotten an A. It's always a perversely nice feeling to know that I know exactly what I did wrong before the professor even has to say anything...and know how I would have fixed it. And, it's an A-...a quite significant improvement from the first paper, which I got a B on. Now I just need to step it up once more for the next paper and get an A. :)

Foucault (the author of the book I read for this week's class) is absolutely insane. The basic understanding I had of him from my limited experience with him in college did not prepare me for his level of insanity. The guy believes that there is no identity, no "I," "you," "we," etc. There are just masks and behind those masks are just power struggles. People don't have innate characteristics...sexuality itself is just a historical construct. HA. I wonder if Foucault was ever in love? Maybe not? Or maybe he had his heart broken and was super cynical? I'm sure I'm completely misrepresenting him, and for that I apologize. But seriously, some of his ideas make me want to laugh out loud.