Nine PM is my bedtime.

I've been pretty exhausted most of the day for no good reason, but I've been plugging along all the same on all of these ridiculous theory readings for my Body Discourses class. I really have to start in on my papers, but my dad's visiting, and we ate a big dinner, and all I really want to do right now is go to bed (but I won't because I'm letting him stay in mine.) So, for all that I'm not super-present blogwise, know that it's because I'm working on final papers, reading body discourse and blog theory books and articles, reading the Critique Handbook, and figuring out what in the hell I'm doing for two of my three final projects. It's not Typography that evades me (I'm typesetting a haggadah), it's the simple freedoms of my independent study and Alison Smith's Fabric of Consciousness class. I've been working on my commemorative bedsheet, and I think I may quilt words upon it a la Tracey Emin, finish it as a quilt, maybe even keep working on it so it becomes, literally, a quilt of the loves in my life. Or not, I'm not sure. I'm also still working on my rag rug, and I'm working on this hot little piece that is pretty fun and funny, but I've really got to delve into the Critique Handbook and sketchbook illustrations of what this thing's going to look like, what it's going to communicate, and (you know) figure out what I want to say.