that point.

Remember when I wondered if I would ever reach the point where there were simply not enough hours in the day and days in the week to get everything done? No need to wonder any more: I have reached that point. It is a very unfortunate point to reach.

I hate finals. Can coursework be over now, please?

the aristocrats.

Undergrad student: I just really can't reconcile these obvious contradictions in the text. Why can't we just say the author [name redacted] is wrong?!

Professor: Well, it really comes down to whether or not you have an aristocratic or democratic sensibility...

Undergrad student: Excuse me?

Professor: If you have a democratic soul, you will always have an impulse to finally reconcile the whole with the parts. You won't be able to live with contradiction; parts that don't fit with the whole will have to be ignored or discarded. If you have an aristocratic soul, you will be able to appreciate contradiction and realize it is often the most interesting part of any text. You will be able to fall in love with great authors, while still remaining critical of their work.

Two hours later...

Me, to a friend: I always knew I was an aristocrat! And today, Professor [name redacted] just confirmed it. Score!

a mind is a terrible thing to lose.

I lost my wallet this morning, for the second time in two weeks. Both times, I've lost my wallet somewhere in the library, and both times, someone has turned it in to the front desk without taking any of my money (or, thank god, my coupon for 40% off at Banana Republic). While I'm concerned about my inability to hang on to my belongings, it could be worse: prior to these last two mishaps, the last time I lost my wallet was in college, also at the library, and that time I got it back with no money left in it. (However, in terms of bad news, it just so happens that this morning one of my students was working the front desk at the library when I went to retrieve my wallet. And yes, I am shallow enough to have been embarrassed that he saw the hideous picture on my student ID.)

Alas. There are two lessons to be learned here: 1) Students here are remarkably honest and trustworthy (or perhaps, simply, less in need of my $5) and 2) I am well on my way to becoming an absentminded professor.

Time to buy a tweed jacket and start smearing my lipstick all over my teeth.

on friendship.

"A friend is not somebody one trusts to behave in a certain manner, who has certain useful qualities, who holds acceptable opinions; he is somebody who evokes interest, delight, unreasoning loyalty, and who (almost) engages contemplative imagination. The relationship of friends is dramatic, not utilitarian." > Michael Oakeshott, The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of Mankind

three times, not the charm.

I've just finished reading The Republic, for the third time. You'd think that after three complete read throughs I'd have it down cold, but every time I open it up again, I feel as though I've never really read it at all. And I don't mean that I discover something new each time I read it, I mean that I really feel like I'm reading it for the first time. Again.

This is not a good thing. There is no joy, at least for me, in never quite getting a grip on something. You know all that romantic comedy bullshit about every time you kiss someone, it feels like the first time? I never thought that was a particularly compelling idea either. Familiarity is nice. Especially after the third reading.

Plato, you are clearly brilliant, but you give me a headache. So there.

women and weed.

I am reading Herodotus, which, I am happy to report, has been quite fun. So far, I have learned two very important lessons: 1. Oracles are tricky tricksters and misinterpreting them often leads directly to death and destruction, and 2. Women are very, very dangerous, and their mere presence often leads directly to death and destruction. It helps that oracles were often women, so basically you can just apply the second lesson and be done with it.

Suddenly, I am suspicious of myself.

Also, I have learned from Herodotus that potheads are as old as time: Scythians used to take hemp and cast it on to hot stones, which, Herodotus tells us, "gives off smoke and a vapor...the Scythians in their delight at the steam bath howl loudly." Did they also suddenly crave olives and pita bread? Because if so, they sound exactly like boys I knew in high school.

hobnobbery.

A couple nights ago, my parents took me to a party. I really enjoy "adult" parties my parents take me to, because "adults" are, in my experience, much friendlier than people my own age. Friends of my parents friends also tend to be much more interesting than people my own age. Not only that, but the alcohol and food at "adult" parties is way, way better than anything you can find at a party thrown by anyone in their late twenties.

The party I went to a couple nights ago was nothing special, as far as these things go, but it ended up being quite memorable. Somehow, I found myself having a very interesting discussion with a woman who writes for Slate. That was cool enough in and of itself, until she then introduced us to her equally interesting husband, who, I later discovered, had won a Nobel Prize. Then, to top it all off, she asked me for my email address. Why? Because her son lives in DC, and she thinks he and I should really meet for drinks.

Conversations like this do not happen to me. Ever. And unfortunately, this one occurred when I was already on my fourth glass of wine, which means that it is somewhat tainted in my memory by an alcoholic haze. However, I woke up the next morning and my mother, who was present for the whole exchange, confirmed that it had, in fact, taken place. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I would have thought I dreamt it all up.