Hellhole. The student who told me this today didn’t realize how perfectly the term fit the situation. Oh, I’m sure there are plenty of other things that are worse, but it’s not fear or pain. Maybe it’s more lack of endurance and a softish perception–they tend to mute out everything else that would have a chance of bringing me out of a stupor.
Or maybe I’m just feeling tired and hungry. It probably explains my lack of wordage these days. About five hours of sleep in the past twenty-four hours. Skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And the “slavedriver” (the other student’s nickname for my supervisor, not mine) is not done steamrollering me yet.
If I were my mother, I would be very worried.
Princeton accused of Ivy League hacking. Are you surprised? I’m not surprised. Students have always been pawns in the battle between prestigious universities. (Another article at the Yale Daily News.)
Lack of Women in The New Yorker Magazine. These are some very interesting statistics. I wonder what one of my former profs (a woman and a former New Yorker editor) would say about this. Maybe I should start submitting stuff to the magazine.
Sandboard no Sahara. That guy must have serious sand scratches on his surfboard.