Friday, September 27, 2013

Waiting for test results to come back...



When I manage to pull off a paper an hour before class




I somehow managed to get an A- on my shitty paper. Apparently, even my shit work is A quality.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Interlibrary loans are occasionally useless


Dear Livia,

A request you have placed:

MEDIEVAL AND RENAISSANCE TEXTS AND STUDIES
293      2005
Title: Woman as Mediator in Medieval Depictions of Muslims: The Case of Floripas
Author: Akbari,  Suzanne Conklin

TN: 31745

has been cancelled by the interlibrary loan staff for the following reason:

Other.

Article not available through ILL due to copyright restrictions.



Well fuck you then! I'll just go over to USC and xerox the damn thing.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Going to the spa, may not come back...




Don't wait up for me is what I'm trying to say.

Trollolololo

This is the sonnet I had to explicate yesterday:

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing my like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
   For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
   That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

This is Shakespeare's sonnet #29. Now, I'm going to break this down for you. One of the reasons I went with the sonnet rather than the modern poem (we had a choice between this and something by Anne Sexton. I didn't even look at the Sexton) is because the sonnet at least has a formula I can follow.

As some of you may remember from your high school/college English classes, Shakespearian/English sonnets typically follow this pattern: abab, cdcd, efef, gg. Notice I said "typically"

Now look at this:


1. When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes                   a
2. I all alone beweep my outcast state,                                     b
3. And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,               a
4. And look upon myself, and curse my fate,                           b
5. Wishing my like to one more rich in hope,                          c
6. Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,          d
7. Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,                     c
8. With what I most enjoy contented least;                              e
9. Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,                  f
10. Haply I think on thee, and then my state,                          b
11. Like to the lark at break of day arising                               f
12. From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;             b
13.    For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings     g
14.   That then I scorn to change my state with kings.            g



Take a good long look at line 8. That's right, line 8 ends in a word that doesn't rhyme with anything else in this poem. But wait, there's more! Instead of using a new sound, Shakespeare goes on to repeat the b rhyme in lines 10 and 12.

This is irrefutable proof, as my good friend Skeeve pointed out, that Shakespeare was intentionally trolling future English students.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Going to school on Saturday, waaaaaaat?


I took the Graduate Exercise today. I get to find out if I passed in a couple weeks. Pray for me.

Monday, September 16, 2013

Charles Dickens is deliberately trying to make me hungry.




I'm either hungry because Oliver is starving or because there's a food analogy. What gives, Chuck?

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Saturday, September 14, 2013

When the prof makes a Monty Python joke in class and I'm the only one who gets it




Thankfully, most of this semester's class has seen Holy Grail. Otherwise, we'd really be in trouble.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Bevis of Hampton is loooooong


Just when you think you have a grasp on Middle English, the professor goes and assigns a new poem in another dialect.

God dammit, England! What is up with you and your charming regional accents??

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Submitting papers to Blackboard



It's true


Skeeve: Sometimes I think you only go to school to find funny things written in old timey books.

Me: That's why ALL English majors go to school.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Oh, Currer Bell, you little scamp!




I love you, Charlotte Brontë.

P.S. Yeah, I write in my books. But only in pencil.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Tonight, on "Things You Will Never Hear Outside of a Medieval Lit Classroom"



"The giant is legally correct."
--Medievalist Professor


I really want to put that quote on a bookmark.



Edit: Because a few people have asked,

Once upon a time, there was a giant named Arrok. Arrok was a happy little giant who lived deep in the forest where he liked nothing more than to care for his herd of happy little deer. One day, an uppity knight named Sir Eglamour came to call. Sir Eglamour strode into the giant's forest without so much as a by-your-leave. The knight blew his hunting horn, which greatly upset the giant's timid herd of deer. Sir Eglamour's hounds began to bark, and their horrible baying soon woke Arrok from his peaceful slumber. By the time Arrok awoke, he found that Sir Eglamour had slain his favorite deer. This made Arrok very cross. For Arrok, you see, belonged to the forest, and the deer in turn belonged to Arrok. Because Sir Eglamour did not ask Arrok's permission to ride onto the giant's land and hunt his deer, he was, in fact, poaching, which is a terribly naughty crime punishable by death. And so, Arrok flew into a rage, which was quite within his legal rights, determined to mete out justice. And everyone with any sense agreed that the giant was legally correct.

Except for the knight, who chopped off his head.

The end.

Original text here: http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/hudson-sir-eglamour-of-artois