All You Want

I'm working. All day today since Semiotics was cancelled due to my professor's being ill. So I'm working on my semiotics paper. Suture in the literary analysis of Kate Chopin's "The Story of an Hour." Now, I know this story very well from writing two papers on it in Intro to Literary Theory (is that what it was called?) two years ago. I loved it, thought it was masterful. Others didn't. (wink, wink, Brian.) So here I am working with it again only on a completely different level. Not in terms of its symbols but in terms of the subject intering into the Symbolic order. Abstractness, I know. Don't hate me when it turns out to be a revolutionary study. A revolutionary study of suture in literary analysis in five days. I'm sighing right now if you didn't already know that from the hint of warmth that just landed on your neck.

Then there's my study of William Carlos Williams and Wallace Stevens. A creative piece, thank goodness. Once I get a handle on both of them, it should be fun. Like my creative Emily Dickinson essay was last year. But, once again, I'm juggling two of these freaking papers at once. Plus, my poetry portfolio (my own poetry) is due on the same day as this Williams-Stevens thing. Plus, I'm giving a reading at Henry's this Sunday of my own poetry for the first time ever. Plus, Jedsen's birthday is next Tuesday, and how am I going to see him? Plus, Beth is having her baby on Monday. Plus, our treasured book gets auctioned at Christie's on Monday. Plus, I tend to get anxiety from time to time about things like these.