I'm back in school! First things first: yes, I've worn my boots every day since I got them and will wear them tomorrow, too, and for every forseeable tomorrow.

This week I'm "shopping" classes, so it'll be a few days before I know what I'm taking. The uncertainly of it all, though liberating in its way, can be so nerve-wracking. Case in point: Today I went to the class I've been most excited about, Readings in the History of Sexuality, taught by George Chauncey. It's a graduate seminar, capped at 18. There were at least 25 students in there today, so G.Chaunc asked us to send him an email explaining why we want to take the class. Now, because people are shopping, it's impossible to know who will show up for the next class meeting. Maybe 10 people will decide to take something else instead, and natural attrition will prevent any forced ejections. Or maybe everyone wants to stay and they will all have more compelling reasons than I -- though I can't imagine. Gender is my BFF! I've been waiting all year for this class, no exaggeration, and I've also spent many, many minutes trying to figure out how to get adopted into the George Chauncey-Ron Gregg household. (Ron Gregg teaches in film studies. He *hearts* Hollywood, too!)

I just sent the email, which took me two hours to write because I was trying to find a less desperate way to say, "If I don't let me into this class, then I'm taking my own life. Blood on your hands." It was due in at midnight, or I'd still be working on it. As it was, the time stamp on the email was 11:59pm. It's seriously hard to write 2-3 paragraphs on how a class fits into your graduate work when the answer is, "This course IS my graduate work." It's like describing a color. It's green, dude -- it just IS. Now let me in your class.