so much for no blogging

but it will be a short n'. It's not all that bad, the assvice. I mean, there are a lot of pages without writing on them. A lot more than with primary advisor man. Only two majorly rewritable sections. Provided the advisors can look it over this weekend, and give their okay, I can hopefully hand it in on Wednesday the 7th. And I'm not too too worried about the presentation in my Caravaggio class. It's about technique, about which a lot of my classmates know not a thing. I'll enlighten them, sure!

So you know I'm not dead, for now anyway.

Can't talk, revising

Got a dreaded email from my second advisor. Seems she is even more full of assvice than the first one. You remember him, he knows not of Smoke on the Water. Anyway, lotsa work and 10 days to do it. You will not hear from me. I may be dead. But if not, I will update on December 7, a day that will live in infamy not for the whole Pearl Harbor thing, but for me doing a presentation and handing in my thesis on the very same day. Jesus Christ, I hope I don't die!

Oh, and the Mac? is here and very beauteous.

What to do?

Soooo, there are two conferences that I'm submitting abstracts to, try and get one of them. They are two weeks apart, one in Boston, one in Montreal. The one in Boston is on humor in art; the one in Montreal is on shifting borders. This one's call for papers mentions images of death as a possible topic.

My dilemma- I have a paper that works for both of them! But I think it would be cheesy and possibly even tacky to submit the same paper (done two different ways, of course) to different conferences. I think I'd rather just send the Boston one and hope and pray. Maybe? I dunno. Again, the suggestion box is open, people.

Help!, she whines.

just whatever

I've become addicted to tracking our mac. It's on its way from Shanghai. Can't wait till she gets here!! The internet is crazy. In many ways, it's a very good an useful tool. But things like this drive me a little nutso.

Also, my boss has been looking at info on thyroid cancer, since she's got it. And it's making her a little crazy too. Because really, all you have to read is one off stastic, and you're completely freaked out. She's so scared, and I don't really blame her. But we try to joke about it, and make light of the situation. We figure that when she can put "Cancer Survivor" behind her name, her work will sell like hotcakes. Specially since she's only 29. She's a cool boss, she gives me lots of room to just work on my own and stuff. Very nice, much better than the last assignment I had, jeeee-sus! AWFUL students, scatterbrained profs, and I had to do all the final grades myself. F that!

Nerdiness on the horizon

Tomorrow I'm going to a symposium on the exhibition Alice Neel's Women, at the National Museum for Women in the Arts. nimwah. :) I can't waaaaait! And it's a subject that I have studied before. It'll be fun. Going with Steph (my friend from school, not my sister) and Lori. My school wife. Well, my only wife, really. We're pretty much always together, we study sort of the same thing, etc etc.

In December or January, I want to go with Andrew, aka sheepshank to see Raymond Pettibon's drawings at the whitney. And I want to go to the Met with my mom and sister to see their giant frickin tree and creche. Ginormous and intense.

Bless you, Mac

We just ordered Kev his own computer. Thank God! He got an iMac, and I am way excited about it. I use a Mac at work, and now I'm pretty much converted to the greatness that is Mac, too. But I'll be really happy to have my Dell back and all to myself. Take off his big friggin programs, and his music, and all our pictures. There's a lot of stuff on this baby. And I just finished paying it off, too. I'll be able to take the computer to school with me, ya know, it being portable and all.

And if anyone knows anything about setting up a business, like for tax purposes, let me know? Kev-dog wants to set up No Problem records, officially. And maybe Uncle Sam will cough up some dough for our new, beautiful, 20-inch Imac with 1.5 G of RAM and a whopping 250G hard drive (and that's without any upgrades!) When did I turn into such a geek??

addendum part deux

there are some STUPID STUPID word changes that he erased. There's also an instance where the phone must have rung, because what's there is not even a word, let alone a sentence.

I will not have my students hate me as I do mein Maester. grumble grumble

addendum

If they're within the vicinity of what you're talking about, that's helpful, too.

I've lost my secret decoder ring.

A note to all teachers

Comments are nice. Nicer still if they're legible.

Revising, revising

So today I set to work revising my thesis. I hope to be able to give it right back on Friday, or Monday possibly. And I'll get my other advisor to look it over during the break too. I am getting closer.

I've looked over the notes, and there are a record 6 pages without writing on them. Wow. And a lot of the writing of his is not major, dude, you have to address this, this and this. It's crossing out my words and putting in rather similar ones. Argh. I'll say it again, I will never impress him. Nevah!!

I just have to brush up on my feminist literature, no big. And throw in some other artists, no problem. I can't wait to be done! Cause when I'm done, I'm getting a massage. And maybe a facial too. I'm developing a hump in my neck from craning to read/write/edit/catalog/do all the things art historians do. I've noticed that almost all of use wear glasses or contacts. Could it be because we sit in the dark looking at slides and trying to take comprehensible notes?? Maybe?

Oh, and go Birds!

Who, me, hip??

So this meeting with my advisor on Friday, yeah, it was 45 minutes long. Good

Christ!! And he pretty much just read me his comments. Dude, I can read!! There

was this one passage, I loved it, where I reacted to an

oft-quoted statement on Lisa's work (the artist that I'm

writing about. Since I've spent a year on this project, I 've

decided that I can call her by her first name). The critic

said that he felt like a rock fan "parsing nuances on a guitar

strum." After I looked up what parsing meant (sorta like examining)I took issue with it. Because, well, that is completely dumb to me, there's nothing

subtle about her work, at all. So I likened her technique, in

the conclusion of chapter one, to a riff. And I began a

sentence with the phrase, "Like the opening chords to Smoke on

the Water...yadayada art speak pretensious...." And he didn't

know what I was talking about. HE doesn't know this song!!

He's in his late forties, I think, maybe early fifties. GOD!

Even if you don't know what it's called, you know that riff.

He said that I can't assume my audience is as hip as I am.

Uh, dude, the song, it's about 30 years old!! I give up, I will never impress him. Sigh

Tick tock

I'm sitting here on the computer, like a doofus, waiting on an auction to end. It's for Kev, it's not even for me. Some kind of comic book thingy, I dunno.

Tomorrow I have a meeting with my advisor. He's read my thesis and wants to discuss. Jee-sus. I hope it's not bad. I feel like the last chapter is bad, personally. My dream reaction would be for him to say, hey, that last chapter, cut it. Expand this, this and this, and call it a day. I am so on whatever he says though. I just hope the criticism isn't too biting! Cause crying in front of your advisor is not something you should do. Twice.

Oh, and I'd like to send out a big FUCK YOU to PGW. There is no gas in our house. The stove was broken, so my parents bought a new one. Well, it wasn't the actual stove, we have a gas problem. So the gas co. came out yesterday, turned it off and now... brr! It's cold in here, and there's not hot water. I am going to look so sexy tomorrow without showering! Maybe I'll become a hippy....

Not-so-smooth Criminal

Just apparently stole about 20 dollars worth of merchandice from Target. I didn't even mean to!! I bought a couple of plastic storage bins for our ever expanding collection of crap. And I evidently threw some socks and a STUPID Eagles Christmas hat that Kevin drove me nuts looking for last year. So I get all my stuff home and realize, hey there's stuff in this bin. Not bagged. Well, must have just fallen out. NOOOOO!! The cashier didn't ring me up!!

I feel really guilty. The guard even checked my stuff, and he didn't catch it either! It wasn't intentional, honestly! I feel like I should go back, but I had to wash the socks, I need them for tomorrow. They're gonna think I'm crazy. My mom said to give the money to charity. Don't need a lecture, but what do you think I should do??

If any of my faithful readers can help me...

I need a topic for my Art of the 80's directed research paper. So far, I got NOTHING! Maybe I'll write on Eric Fischl, he's fun and pornish. I'm also going to check out a show that happened in 1990 called High and Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture. See what pops up. But for now, the suggestion box is open and being checked regularly...

Sniff sniff snort

Ugh. I am a really bad wife. Like really bad. What have I done, you ask? Well, see, I kind of made fun of Kev while he was sick. "You're not sick," I say, "you just have a cold." And he complained a bit more, and I made him help me clean the house. Bad, right?

I got mine. I am now sick too. Only me of the retarded sinuses, my cold turned immediately to a sinus infection. Right now, the stabbing facial pains are gone, but I am congested and generally under-water feeling. And my breathing sounds like Darth Vader.

All because I made fun of him. I mean, yeah, guys are usually pussies when it comes to being sick. And I always get a cold around this time of year. But I am not going to make any more fun of my wonderful husband. Well, at least not about being sick. Even though he wasn't sick, he just had the sniffles. I, on the other hand, was sick sick.