Eco at Emory

I just learned like two weeks ago that Umberto Eco is coming to Emory to give a series of lectures. It's this weekend:

Event Schedule, October 5-7, 2008:

Sunday, October 5th, 2008
4:00-5:00 pm: Lecture: “How I Write”, Emerson Hall, Schwartz Center
for the Performing Arts
5:00-6:00 pm: Public Reception, Patterson Green, Goizueta Business School

Monday, October 6th, 2008
8:15-9:15 pm: Lecture: "Author, Text, and Interpreters", Sanctuary,
Glenn Memorial Church

Tuesday, October 7th, 2008
4:00-5:00 pm: Lecture: “On the Advantages of Fiction for Life
and Death”, Emerson Hall, Schwartz Center
8:15-9:05 pm: A Reading by Umberto Eco, Emerson Hall
9:15-10:30 pm: Book signing by Umberto Eco, Emerson Hall

All events are free and open to the public. Tickets are not required.

*****

So then I found out that our department had been invited to have brunch with him on Sunday. Holy crap. Just our department. And him. Brunch. NOW I just got an email saying that the location for the brunch has been changed and will be held at the home of the Italian consulate, who has kindly invited us to gnosh at to her house in Buckhead.

Seriously, first Crispin Glover, now this. What the hell am I going to wear?

Hi Karyn!

Thanks for checking my blog. Daily. Not much to see, I'm afraid, cause I'm too busy to write. But come back again, ya hear?

Celibacy rocks

I am totally getting into this being alone thing. It may be the best move I've ever made for myself. I am focused, calm, productive and a nice mom. I don't have mood swings, don't worry about someone calling or making a date or missing a date or saying the wrong thing...it's all about ME!

I highly recommend shutting down the emotional and sexual motor to all you gals (and guys? I know nothing about y'all...) from time to time just to re-center yourselves. It's cleansing and strengthening, and a bunch of other new agey words. But seriously, I've never been happier.

Of course, if Crispin Glover wanted me, I might have to change gears a bit. And there was that dream last night totally out of the blue about me and Tommy Glavine. But hey, the motor's just idling, not off...

Busy busy busy

I can't believe how much more work goes into teaching three classes as opposed to one. I've even taught all three of these before, and I'm STILL working non-stop to keep up! Part of it is that I'm hyper-vigilant about knowing what I'm supposed to do in class at any given moment. I hate getting caught halfway through a lesson and going "Huh?" and having it all fall apart.

So far the two language classes are going really well, though they had quizzes today and one of the classes is obviously needing some clarity. Is that my responsibility or the students'? Of course, I feel like it's mine, so I'm going to try to fine tune my lesson plans to be sure I'm being absolutely clear on what we're doing.

The other class, the detective fiction/film noir one, is kind of struggling along. I need help teaching literature, honestly, and I think I may have found a way to get it. But it's going pretty well. I'm trying to make them do the work instead of me, but still I have to come in prepared with zillions of questions each day, to kind of spur them on. C'est pas evident, comme disent les francais...

I leave you with Robert et Mireille. Welcome to my world:

From "Play," 1962

Woman 1 : I said to him, Give her up. I swore by all I held most sacred--

Woman 2 : One morning as I was sitting stitching by the open window she burst in and flew at me. Give him up, she screamed, he's mine. Her photographs were kind to her. Seeing her now for the first time full length in the flesh I understood why he preferred me.

Man : We were not long together when she smelled the rat. Give up that whore, she said, or I'll cut my throat [hiccup] --pardon--so help me God. I knew she could have no proof. So I told her I did not know what she was talking about.

Woman 2 : What are you talking about? I said, stitching away. Someone yours? Give up whom? I smell you off him, she screamed, he stinks of bitch.

Woman 1 : Though I had him dogged for months by a first-rate man, no shadow of proof was forthcoming. And there was no denying that he continued as . . . assiduous as ever. This, and his horror of the merely Platonic thing, made me sometimes wonder if I were not accusing him unjustly. Yes.

Man : What have you to complain of ? I said. Have I been neglecting you? How could we be together in the way we are if there were someone else? Loving her as I did, with all my heart, I could not but feel sorry for her.