Sunday, February 13, 2011

Sojourn in St. Louis...

I’ve been very naughty with both my posting and my progress.  As I believe I left off with, on Tuesday I began the cross-country trek from Erie to St. Louis.  I can’t explain the sense of peace and satisfaction I felt (after 7 coffees and eleven listens to the Mumford & Sons album) when I saw the Arch peaking over the horizon! I think Blue was equally relieved as he finally stopped groaning bitterly at his plight of being trapped in the passenger seat for 2 days straight.

 Ga (aka Grandma) had lunch and a soft bed waiting. I slept for 14 hours straight and anxiously awaited Craig’s arrival—after hugging him a dozen times or so I finally stopped fixating on the robbery the week before and my list of ‘what ifs.’  During his days here we watched old movies with Ga, checked out St. Louis from the top of the arch (riding up to the top in crammed ancient, roller-coaster like pods was my least favorite part), had an adventure trying to bathe the dog in glass-walled shower, lunched with the Roses, and planned out next month’s visit when Craig will be on spring break.  Going back to a long-distance relationship reminds me of the beginning of our courtship and of falling in love all over again, which I realize is cheesy, but pretty wonderful nonetheless.  To pursue this course of gushiness, I’ll add that the past few weeks have truly shown me how lucky I am—I come from such an affectionate, hysterical, and supportive family.  It’s been delightful spending extended time with my parents and grandmother as an adult, really get to know them all them in a new way. 

But I haven’t neglected my studies entirely! Craig brought me a handful of books he was able to score from U-Penn via interlibrary loan.  Several on contemporary criticism look especially promising, for as my brilliant friend Eve pointed out the evening I crashed with her Bloomington, postcolonial theory has become reductive, and many critics use it to draw whatever conclusions they like: aka, Laura Berol’s assumption that Barry (of Barry Lyndon) represents a wronged Ireland and Lady Lyndon, England, suffering the brunt of past wrongdoings.  We’re in such a hurry to categorize and label that we forget to explore the truths present in the hazy spots in between.  More on this tomorrow; I’ll express myself more eloquently after my morning clip on the treadmill and some caffeine.  Much more from me in the coming weeks…..

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