This week was the penultimate teaching week of my second year---and I have really, really felt it. I will spend the next two days with another essay---on art and romance in Madame Bovary---and then I am pretty much done. (There are essays over the spring break and exams to prepare for, but teaching ultimately ceases). And I probably should be savouring it all---all the really bright academics I rub shoulders with, all the time I can devote to books and to words and to composition. But I guess I am a little bit tired---a little bit tired of jumping through the hoops I didn't expect there to be and the moments of uncertainty---of not really knowing what to do and not seeing the passion---real and heart-felt---in others.* And I don't mean to sound pessimistic or ungrateful (for this chance, this really, really wonderful chance of education), but I have just been feeling down this week as the questions of future and of next year have loomed.
As a result, I haven't spent that much time scouring the internet for very many things, but here are a few links that I have lately favourite-d.
As a result, I haven't spent that much time scouring the internet for very many things, but here are a few links that I have lately favourite-d.
Really, really beautiful things people do with books (other than write them)...
...and I cannot get over just how astonishing these tapestry book-covers are!
Sesame Street does Mad Men---I got quite a giggle out of "Don".
Ten possible meanings to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
I love some of this art.
I hope you have a wonderful weekend---I will probably be posting a little more regularly next week. (In the hope that I have things to say).
*And maybe this little bit of a rant comes off as passionless in itself---because feeling this way, this apathy and fatigue of university, sometimes makes me wonder whether or not I'm in the right place; whether or not I am one of those very students I frustrate over. But then I open up a book or I start writing about the things that excite me---or write in a way that I am proud of---and it comes back, that feeling of being where I need to be. And then it's a little bit of a vicious circle---a revolution of questioning the self and simply not having the answers.
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