Flight of the Bumblebee

That title up there will be my sound track for the semester. If you've any idea at all what it sounds like, you will understand. If you don't, shame on you! It's one of those very popular pieces that even people who hate classical music recognize.

In any case, I'll be a flurry of reading, flipping pages the way a heavy breeze does and soaking it all up like a piece of Wonder Bread takes in a puddle of spilled milk. Hopefully, I won't be soppy and wet by the end of it, although I have few illusions of a sane close to this semester.

I've now attended each of my classes, and have determined that while they will all make perfect sense, they will also all be a stretch of my academic talent. I suppose that's what grad school is for.

My classes, to catalogue them, include the poetry of Frost, Stevens and Bishop, a study of epidemiology in early American literature, and a seminar on the sensation novel of Victorian England. I'll be referring to them as "Poetry," "Diseases," and "Victorian," respectively. For poetry, there are four texts plus secondary sources to be handed out later; for diseases, there are eight texts, one course pack, one CD of about 500-600 pages of material, several online articles, a few handouts, and I'm not even sure what else (everybody panic with me on the count of three); for Victorian, there are six novels and a bunch of articles/chapters on reserve in the library. If anyone ever calls the apartment and reaches me, I'll be reading.

My professors this go around are all male, and I think I'll get along well with each of them. Last semester there were two whose motivation I questioned (not in class or to their faces, of course). So.

I can see myself enjoying every class this semester, even though the work will be harder this time around. I can see the validity in each class, and do not doubt the benefit I will receive from them. Of course, I'll still complain about the workload. That's natural.

And that's about all I have for now. I'll be signing off to do some reading.

End.