Second week of classes over already? Sheesh. It's my last semester of classes, can you believe it? After this semester, it's all oral exams and dissertation. I thought I would miss classes, but I don't think I will, because too many I've taken haven't been that great. And yet I've had to read all the books, even when they're stupid; and sit in class discussions I couldn't contribute to, because they were stupid; and write papers at the end, even though they've been stupid, too.

It occurs to me that I may still be bitter about my film theory class from last semester. Any class that ever, at any point, poses the question, "How would Zizek repond to this?" had better also have previously provided me with an easy-to-read chart of possible answers. Because the best I can do is, "Probably in Slovene, before making a mental translation into English." So. After this semester, I can audit courses, so I can skip out of any class meetings requiring Continental philosophy as an unannounced prerequisite.

Listen, okay, Claudia, that was last year. Black Eyed Peas: Two thousand and late." Stella Adler: "Don't go back, go on." New semester, new times! Here's the lineup:

1. Research Seminar in Urban History

I have a lot riding on this class. At the end of the research seminar, we're meant to have produced a significant piece of original research, ready (or nearly ready) for submission to an academic journal. I totally need this kind of focus; don't tell anyone, but I don't know how to research. Also, I'm using this to try out an idea a project that may be able to turn into dissertation. And if my idea doesn't work, I have no idea what I'm going to for a dissertation. More on that as I work on it.

2. Sexual Modernity and Censorship: Lubitsch and Wilder

We're looking at the movies of writer-directors Ernst Lubitsch and Billy Wilder, and how their films played around with sexual relationships and the Production Code. Billy Wilder's movies you may know: Sunset Boulevard (1950), The Apartment (1960), Some Like It Hot (1959). Lubitsch is less well-known these days, mostly I think because his films are older. I loved The Merry Widow (1934) at one point in my life -- that Maurice Chevalier, what an adorable French rake. You may know The Shop around the Corner (1940) with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. Or you may know its remake, You've Got Mail (1998). (Interestingly, the original does much less stripping-the-female-of-everything-she-is-in-order-to-fit-her-into-the -male's-world-order.) And oh, my god, watch Ninotchka (1939) if you have any interest in feeling joy. Note: This is my last semester of class and yet my first seminar in Hollywood cinema, which was what I thought I came back to school for. But let's not talk about that.

3. Theatricality in Film.

I have no idea what this class is about, really, except that it's about time for me to take another film class to fulfill my requirement, and about time to take a class with Brigitte Peucker (MHC '60!), who I expect will be overseeing one of my oral exam areas. Once I figure out what it means to be "theatrical" in the context of film, I'll have a better idea of what I should be doing in here. Does it mean to be explicitly connected to a theatrical property? Does it mean to have a stripped-down production design? Does it mean to be uncommonly dramatic/melodramatic? My first reaction to the course was, "Well, once it's on film, it's cinematic, so it's no longer theatrical." That shuts down the conversation pretty quickly, though.

Off to read a book or two. As a last thought: I'm sure that everyone has done what they can to support the rescue and recovery efforts in Haiti. If you are looking for a way to do something else, keep Heifer International in mind. They have been supporting over 16,000 families in Haiti, and so many of them will need to start over. This is one way to offer a different kind of assistance, as the recovery phase moves into the rebuilding phase, and moves off of the front pages.

Last night, I went to an on-campus sneak preview of the new movie musical Nine, which will officially open in a couple of weeks. I love musicals and I love free, so I was really excited to go. I was wary of Nine when I first read about it, because it's got a star-studded cast of people I didn't have faith in the singing/dancing abilities of. I was a little concerned that Kate Hudson was going to ruin the movie like she ruined Luke Wilson's life (ouch!), or that Penelope Cruz was going to annoy me beyond endurance. Because she does. (In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have been introduced to her via Vanilla Sky. That wasn't her fault. I should cut her a break. I did respect her in Volver, and in this one, too.)

But I really enjoyed the movie! Nine, which has been on Broadway a couple of times, is not the strongest musical, as source material. So the songs are okay -- appropriate to the characters but not awesome as stand-alones -- and the story, like 8 1/2, is more about impressions than narrative. But thanks to the director, cheorographer, editor, production designer, costume designer, and cinematographer, it's got a lot of style and flash. And there's good acting and singing, especially that Marion Cotillard. With whom I am just a little bit in love. In conclusion, three stars. But honestly, if you can barely stand musicals, this one won't change your mind.

In the auditorium, I was sitting around some of my film studies folk, and as soon as the credits started to roll, Jeremy turned to Takyuya and said, "That was horrible, wasn't it?" (That question was rhetorical.) Now, I ignore 40-60% of what Jeremy says, because he's 10 different kinds of snob. We're taking about a guy who once, upon taking leave of me at a party, bowed. Unironically. Bowed. As if being Belgian means that one lives inside a 18th-century royal court of one's own making. But Takuya -- who, despite being JAPANESE, has never bowed in my presence -- apparently agreed. When he asked me what I thought, and I said, "I really liked it!", Takuya nodded, paused a second, and patted me sympathetically on the back.

Later, Jeremy said to me, only half-kidding, "I think most film studies people would hate that movie. But, you know, it's really good that the program has diversity." To quote Ralph Kranden: One of these days, Jeremy -- TO THE MOON.

That was, I remember now, the second time that day I outed myself as a film studies outlier. Earlier that day, I was sitting with a fellow AmStud-Film student, Josh, and he was going on about Citizen Kane. I actually admire a great deal about that movie, but it can be really undynamic if you're not in the mood. Like if you're sleepy. So I said something like, "That movie can be so boring. Orson Welles? Just a fat man with a camera."

I'm gonna get myself put on film studies probation soon.

Something I was reminded of in film class this morning, when I expressed a thought aloud that resulted in Dudley Andrew nodding briskly and casting around the room for the next idea: Not everything is a Western. If a film seems like it might be in conversation with some Western conventions, but does not have Clint Eastwood in the desert, it probably should not be considered a Western. Even though Westerns are SO COOL, not everything is one.

Also yesterday, I finally got my rejection letter from NYU. Oh, NYU.

This afternoon, I returned from my visits to Yale and Brown, and I carried with me my final decision: It's YALE, BABY!

To my surprise, Yale is not totally full of itself -- at least, American Studies is not totally full of itself. (I think that the history department believes that they invented the past.) The students were open and friendly, the faculty was excited about us, everyone appeared to like one another, and film studies professor Charlie Musser walks into walls, which is great. (It's important to remember that superstars of academia are really just huge dorks with published books, and watching them do something like walk straight into a wall helps to maintain that perspective.)

I met a bunch of cool students. My #1 favorite is Ryan Brasseaux, who is from Lafayette, LA; and since my mom is from New Orleans, we are probably related, which I told him. Also, he has two little babies! They are 2 and 4. I didn't get to meet them, but Ryan appeared to like me, so I am fully expecting that a benefit of going to Yale is that I will get to play with babies without having any babies! Yay!

I do consider that a side benefit. The main benefit is that I'll be going to YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALE, BABY!

I had a conversation this afternoon with Robin Blaetz re: my upcoming trips to New Haven and Providence:
Claudia: This is just a little thing, but when you got that note about me cancelling the trip to Brown, did you get the sense that anybody was mad at me? Because I had incredible guilt for a little while.
Robin: No, nobody was mad or anything like that. [Professor Matt Garcia] was concerned that you were mad at them -- if they'd done something. You're their number one choice.

Oh, shit, I ROCK the American Studies graduate school HIZ-OUSE.

Also, in case you didn't know, Robin Blaetz and Mary Renda are totally different people. Last week, I was on the phone for more than an hour with Mary, her asking me twelve different types of probing questions, me having partial answers for three or four of them, and feeling pretty certain that I was not at all ready to make this decision. Today, I was on the phone with Robin for fifteen minutes, her asking me two questions, telling me I'll know after I visit, and I should basically go with my gut. Two totally different people.

From the school I never expected to get into -- referred to my application fee as a donation to the "Yale Rejection Fund" -- I have been receiving regular love letters for the past two weeks. A log:

• 1 email & phone call from professor/director of graduate studies (American Studies)
• 1 email from other professor/director of graduate studies (Film Studies)
• 1 email from an additional American Studies professor
• 1 Email/phone conversation w/ Amer Studies student
• 1 Email from another American Studies student
• 1 Email from American Studies/Film Studies student
• 1 invitation (general) from Office of Diversity and Equal Opportunity to visit (paid for!)

I'm living in an alternate universe, wherein the best American Studies program in the country feels that they need to convince me to consider attending. Loooooooooooove it.

Oh, and I was out sick for a couple of days last week, so I happily thought that I had missed the Applebee's office birthday lunch. Turns out that the gathering was rescheduled for today, when I am not out sick, so I didn't dodge it at all. Crap.

I hope that I will find, in the future, that these trials have made me stronger.

I've gotten more than one email today re: me going to Yale's visiting days as opposed to Brown's at the end of the month. (The third email felt like a guilt-trip, but I've concluded that it may be due to my own sensitivity about this conflict, which keeps me up nights.) They are on the same two days, people; a choice had to be made!

And listen here, Brown representatives: You know that you and Yale and a couple of other schools will be fighting over the same 5 students. So plan your visiting days accordingly. March has thirty-one whole days in it; and a phone call between administrative assistants will prevent all conflict in the future.

Couple of things:
1. I was admitted to Boston University on Friday, which was great -- but I am incredibly fortunate that BU is not my only option this year, because they offered me one year of tuition. Plus nothing. Which is not the same as Brown/Yale, where I would go to class for free for five years, plus a stipend for living [the dream].

I haven't heard a thing from NYU, but I heard through the grad-school grapevine that their visiting days were this past weekend. And since I was not in New York this past weekend, I don't think I've been admitted. You know what would be nice, though? Confirmation. Like, a letter. Or an email! How ridiculous.

2. I got a book for Christmas: David Thomson's The Whole Equation. I finally opened it up yesterday, during lunch. It's a book about the history of the Hollywood studio system, and I hate it. That's pretty incredible. Thomson opens with a description of Chinatown (1972), and he postulates that that film was the height of what Hollywood could produce, and it's all been downhill since then. Here's a tip: Never frame a book around a movie I fell asleep watching. Or one that stars Faye Dunaway. And by God, never do it with BOTH.

The Whole Equation is the most recent on the list of books being donated to the DC Public Library system when I move. Also on that list is The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, which I tried to read a few weeks ago, when I discovered that it isn't all that funny. Very disappointing, that.

Okay, remember when I wrote about how nobody gets into Yale's joint program in American Studies and Film Studies? Um, I just got accepted.

This is what is commonly known as "living the dream."

It is blowing my mind that I will actually be in graduate school in the fall. This is a long time coming, after considering it since undergrad, then the whole research/thinking process through last year, then actually applying, then the horrendous waiting -- I'm having to change my whole mode of thinking, because I'm not planning-hoping anymore but planning-doing!

Another good thing: I only have two days' evidence, but being able to relax about school seems to have made the days at work more pleasant. I won't need any references for a new job, so I feel no need whatever to be a go-getter. And I feel less guilt/frustration when I'm not doing working (on the work I don't have enough of to do), because I don't need to leave a legacy of super-fab work. And I don't feel compelled to take an interest in "professional development" opportunities because I don't need to develop as a development professional. Because in less than six months, I won't be one anymore. Fab.

What research discovered today: That Micky Dolenz (of the Monkees) lives just west of Burbank, CA.

About an hour ago, I got a phone call from a professor at Brown University. I have been admitted.

If I didn't have proof that the phone call happened (via the phone log on my cell), I wouldn't believe it. I feel like I'm in a waking dream.