It's in!

It's in. I handed my thesis to my advisor yesterday. Wow, did it feel good. I'm not happy happy with the third chapter, but that's what revisions are for. It feels like a weight has been lifted. And I feared a reaction along the lines of, uhhhh, you think 5 weeks is enough to do all this?! But it wasn't bad. Advisor says it's doable. So I will probably graduate in January. THANK GOD!

Sorry this post is neither funny nor intellectual, my faithful readers. No sexy pictures either. But I'm too busy taking it easy this weekend to think. ;)

When I write, it looks like this...

See the duster? When I am stumped, I clean. And the Chicago Manual is never far from me.














Sam looks a little annoyed, doesn't he? He was just attacking my papers before I took this. What a stinker!













Someone has a lil caffeine problem, no?










You may be wondering why I have two copies of the same book. Well, I had one, and it fell behind my desk. Tangled up in the wires as it was, I couldn't find it. Unfortunately, it had since gone out of print. Temple's library doesn't have it (big surprise). And since about half my images came from it, I needed it badly. So I go the gallery where the show was. I ask. I have to flirt just a little. And I get to buy it again. Thaaaaaanks, gallery dude. Thought it'd be free. Anyway, when I moved my desk out of the corner, lo and behold! It fell out of the sky!



I am suprised that I am still married, I must say. I guess I have to thank Kev in my acknowledgements, don't I?

What am I writing about right now?

I am writing about the Penthouse pictures. What fun!! I am detailing their reception, and the polarization of the audience that they entail. I am writing about working practice and sources and all kinds of fun stuff. Want to see Figures 16-20? I know you do, so
here...

One down, two to go!!

Chapters that is. Of my thesis. That's right, I've completed a chapter, my friends. Yaaay-ah! I feel better, a little lighter. I can't wait to hand it in. I think I can do so by Wednesday. Definitely by the weekend, so I can just hang out and be happy happy happy at Andrew's wedding. And I have to buy something to wear. I hope this damn rain lets up, because outdoor hippy wedding + rain = naked, woodstock-style mudsliding. I don't think that's the wedding Nicole is dreaming of, though.

Wish me luck with finishing!

Ahh, Caravaggio

This fine soggy morning, I am going up to NYC to see some Caravaggios. Caravaggio was a painter in the 17th century, and was something of a rock star way before rock was even born. He was your typical romantic artist, homosexual, violent type, or at least that's how they portray them in the media (then and now). Anyway, the Met has three Caravaggios, I think. There are only 7 in the whole US, so that's a pretty strong concentration.

We're going to meet our prof up there around 2 and get a lecture. But I'm up this early because Kev called at 7am. I thought there was something to worry about. He just thought we were leaving mega early. No way. 10am is much better. But I'm up, so I'm cleaning and obviously blogging. Because unlike normal people, who would just charge right through tasks they don't like, I prolong the pain through procrastination. Hello, thesis? But I digress.

There is some kind of terror alert for the subways today. So I'm thinking it's not the best time to try and navigate the system. Springing for a cab sounds like a better idea to me. But if I do that, have the terrorists won? I don't care, I just don't wanna die. And since Kev and I got into an accident in his pops' car, and I managed to be the only one who got hurt, I figure I shouldn't take chances.

Yet another non art post, but...

Man, did I get hurt yesterday. I fell down the steps. It was bad. And it was because I was fighting with my mother. (Remember, I still live with my mom, even though I'm married?) Well, arguing. Well, she was nagging me and I was mocking what she had just said to me and it made no sense. If you know my mom, you know what I mean.

So anyway, I must have missed a step. Or five. I dunno, all I remember was yelling, then flying, then falling. To stop myself, I used my foot. Which is now bruised and swollen and very owy. And I have a bruise on my ass. I narrowly avoided a support column in the basement. Maybe 2 inches separated me from knocking myself unconscious and killing my brain. I wonder if I impaired my brain function if they'd cancel my student loans. I don't think I should have to pay them back if all the schooling leaked out in a freak accident. But I digress.

So I sit here typing this while I should be at a Pearl Jam concert. That kind of sucks. A lot. But I couldn't drive there, park in South Philly at John's house, and then walk to the subway. I couldn't take it! So I'm sorry about that.

There's a lesson to be learned here. I'm probably not going to stop fighting with my mom, not with her frustrating knack of nagging me for not being exactly like her. But at least now I know to keep the arguments stationary. Now I'm going to ice my ankle again. Cause owwwwwwww.