You don’t know how much I wish that was a metaphor for too much sex.
So like, you wanna hear about Manet, Degas and the psychological implications behind their depictions of cafe scenes in mid-19th century Paris?…. oh… well how about the latent sociopolitical push-pull behind the iconography of Joseph Beuys’ I Like America and America Likes Me? ….Manet’s subversive criticism of the colonial body in his Execution of Maximilian series?…. no???? WHY ISN’T THIS STUFF IMPORTANT IN REAL LIFE. *sigh*
I’ve been told that Graduate school essentially is ‘you, hating yourself for 2 years’…. and now I totally get it. I’ve decided to categorize it thusly: Grad school is the middle child of higher education. You bust your ass so hard, and yet nothing you accomplish is ever good enough. I realize that, in the grand ol’ scheme, shit could be worse. I know that. Compared to some of the horror stories I’ve heard regarding other art history departments, FSU is like a nurturing mama wolf, ready to cuddle you to its bosom when you start to freak out, and then offer constructive criticism after it licks your tear-stained face. It wants you to succeed, because it genuinely cares about you… but of course that doesn’t make the workload magically disappear. I wouldn’t expect it to… I’m just trying to wade through to December 10… and trying to remind myself that next semester will be better because I, LL, will be better.
Current Jam: Christmas music because currently, I have no energy to decorate, no money to buy gifts, and no time sit back and smell the ‘nog. #bitchbitchwhinebitch