A Single Layer

My sister will be here in an hour and a half, meaning that I will have lost half my blog readership. Well, lost internetly, but found somewhere around baggage claim. Speaking of which, I probably ought to begin the hike to Waverley. Look for a full update on her time here in a week. [Spoiler: We'll be making a three-day tour of the western half of Scotland, replete with tourbus and guide. Also a small taste of Festival, Fringe. And a crash course in Edinburgh, mostly on foot, led by yours truly.]

I had a dream last night that I was bicycling around a park with this 13 year old boy. The park was off Fred Waring Drive, just before or just after the wash - I can't remember exactly. I fell alot, and tried to explain to the boy that I hadn't been on a bike for more than a few seconds since I was thirteen. I kept using the hand-brake whenever I wanted to accelerate, as though confused with the ways of motorcycles. Strangely, no doubt because it was a dream, sometimes the hand-brake would help me accelerate. None of this tells you anything about my life, of course. Mostly because it's been the same old thing as it has been for the last two months: 1. get up at an embarassingly late hour; eat some amazing cereal and drink coffee in my room while checking email and... oh my goodness, i just discovered the weirdest blister on my toe. Gotta go figure out what to do with it... false alarm. It was one of Flatmate Jess's contacts stuck to my foot. No wonder the 'blister&

It occurred to me recently that I have been unduly silent for a very long time in the pages of this blog as to my whereabouts and goings-on. That is mainly because I have been busy both in working on my dissertation and in studiously doing nothing. As proof of this, I am posting a copy of my most recent dissertation outline below. It is relatively uninteresting, and I would suggest that you skim or skip it if you are not widely interested in the topic of the intentional composition of mythology, tradition, and classical epic. Even if you are interested in such things, the outline may be a bore. I provide it only to show that I am doing something significant while I neglect the lot of you - though I doubt it will be much consolation. I apologize if the format of the post is a bit funky. The process of cutting and pasting this thing has proved more difficult than a simple series of right-clicks. argument: Macpherson’s Ossianic narratives were composed in the midst of changing definitions

Aight! here's the dealio. My sister's visiting in three and a half weeks, which is the joy of my life, the sun of my summer, and I gotta be prepared. So this is how it's goin' down. There's gonna be a rough draft of this dissertation in my advisor's inbox by the time Emily gets here, or else . . . something fierce. I'm lookin' forward to her coming - we're gonna hunt us a Haggis, get the low-down on the Nessie situation, and hit up some of the more widely frequented apparel shops over in New Town. Be prepared.