AFTER THE PARTY IT'S THE HOTEL LOBBY

And so this is finals week. Or so they say. The end of this semester has been far easier than the others. I attribute this to the fact that most English classes only require final papers, and that the schedule on which these are due is largely made flexible by professors. And anyway, I only have two papers left. Every other struggle is mainly a struggle to fit in all of the other responsibilities and requirements that come from the festive last week of school. So far, every day I've come into campus with a mile-long list of things to do I've not only accomplished them, but also been subject to so many windfalls. So yeah, it's awesome. I'm giddy. I giggle and dance. What are you going to do about it?

DEAR JAMES BALDWIN,
I've been crazy for you all semester. By about this time next week, I will have read the majority of your fiction and essays and written about eight papers on you. Before, I had never been able to get into Giovanni's Room, which had been recommended to me almost six times over the past year. When I finally read it this October, though, I was struck down by how much I loved it, how much it stirred me up. And your essays-- somehow you give the reader a kind of confidence that allows one to feel as if one shares, in some small capacity, a gram of your wit and intelligence.

The problem is that I'm kind of going nuts with all of this, though, because the way that I feel about your writing defies my own academic analysis every time. There are so many things I want to say, and I've read so much of your work, that it would seem quite obvious that I would write my 20 page thesis paper on you, but I'm terrified of burning out. I don't want to burn out. I want to be able to do this, rather, and just tell you how it is for me. The academic writing style, where the I is smothered by the unmistakable inference that it is correct, does not suit this endeavor on my end, at all. I suppose what I mean here is that it would be so much easier for me to tell you what theories I surmise to be true about your ideas of gender and identity, but I don't want to tell it like it's a sleight of hand, like I know exactly what you were getting at. I am, in short, feeling myself in the rather uncomfortable pigeon hole of "Baldwin scholar."

So, please forgive me these things: that I will continue to quote you, paraphrase you, and tack theories of subjectivity to your work, that the only copies of your books in my possession are American Library editions with bible-thin paper and indices full of your every move, that I have loved you since about the moment I read Go Tell it on the Mountain and Nobody Knows My Name, that I understand our relationship as white girl studying black author requires my constant attention, and indeed that I am careful not to love you in the particular ways that may frighten one. And forgive me my 20 page thesis, if it lies; I will not lie for your sake, or about you, but the semester has been long and fraught and I will return to my more careful affections by the end of next week.

Yours,
Sarah E.S.

IT IS TIME FOR STORMY WEATHER
So, it's the end of another whirlwind semester, and in the spirit of previous years, here's a little summary of what I've learned:
1) There is, in fact, a generation gap between my parents and I. Most people manage to figure this out before they're twenty, but whatever.
2) That said, I love and respect my parents so much. They are endlessly cool people.
3) Bars are expensive.
4) Tandem-crushing on somebody is SO BAD AN IDEA. If you're doing this right now, stop immediately. And don't brainstorm a mixtape for said crush with your cohort lest she should take all your best ideas and monopolize them. Enough said.
5) The beach is great. I don't know why I didn't love it sooner.
6) Nobody likes self-righteous folks, even if they're you.
7) No matter how much you love James Baldwin, you still don't necessarily want to write a 20 page paper about him.
8) Poets dare not crush on other poets.
9) For some reason, wearing an underwire bra is an acceptable reason to be searched at an airport.
10) There's something odd about putting on make-up as a way of allaying sadness.
11) Retreating into the mind for solace makes good academics but damn boring friends.
12) Insecurity gets you nowhere.
13) I love Pittsburgh much more than I even knew.
14) Scotch is pretty good, if you can convince yourself that you like it.
15) There's always another facet of the problem.
16) Snow is a bitch unless you're listening to, say, Bull in the Heather while it's coming down.
17) Knitting and Tobey Maguire films are the only remedies for broken heart.
18) Grad students aren't necessarily smarter or better than undergrads.
19) There's always an excuse to buy more books.
20) Nothing will get done unless you're out of the house by ten in the morning.


Alright, then.