March 29th, 2003

Dr. Bunny

So yeah

Yes, I will post something. It's been a loooooon week. Longer that I'd like to think about, but that's how things go sometimes.

I came home from break on Sunday, and by Monday night I had caught some kind of evil bronchial bug and for the remainder of the week I stayed in bed and wished I was dead. Luckily, the worst is over, I can breathe again (kinda) and I'm starting to give up the bad bad smokies. Good for Meg, right? Right.

The Lit Awards were announced, and The Little Minnow got First Place for short fiction, and my Personal Essay got an Honerable Mention. I don't know how I feel. I think some of it has to do with the fact that I havn't seen it in print yet. They held the Lit Awards a month early, but no, they couldn't publish Graphos a month early. I want to see my stuff in print, I want it in my hands. That's what matteres most to me. I want my hard copy damnit.

I am just exhausted. That's what it boils down to. Next weekend is BIG weekend, the weekend after that is our Dinner Dance (I am SO gonna be an elf, a chubby elf yes, but an elf none the less. Still the Prettiest), after that is Easter, then Senior Sendoff, then the last week of classes, then finals.

WHERE THE FUCK DID MY SENIOR YEAR GO!??!??!?!?!?

As part of the winners circle, I got to go to dinner with our lit award Speaker, William D. Erdhart (or something like that). I ended up sitting at the end of the table, away from all the action. I hate sitting at the end of the table when there's lots of people. You only get one conversation. It wasn't too bad though. I sat next to my old SciFi/Fantasy professor. I fianlly got to hear his side of the story about the girl who just brushed off Walt Whitman. I had missed that day, and apparently Dr. Boyer (the prof) had made a comparison using Whitman, and the girl just piped up, out of no where, that Whitman was an inferior poet.

Yes, that's right, inferior.

From what I heard from the other students in the class, Dr. Boyer just stopped everything. The whole class stopped and just waited as Dr. Boyer could compose himself. The students knew that the shit was about to hit the fan. You do NOT tell an English professor, especially one who's focus is American Lit, that Walt Whitman is an "inferior" poet. Dr. Boyer went into a tiraid about Whitman, asking for what proof she had that he could even be considered inferior. Apparently, she had nothing to back up her claim.

When I asked Dr. Boyer about this imfamous day, he went into relapse. He could hardly say anything for a while, had to take off his glasses and rub his eyes. He really didn't mean to, but apparently he made the girl cry he told me.

I think she deserved it.

So yeah. That's been my week.
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