So I am waiting for my laundry to be done, which is my excuse for why I can write in Livejournal instead of reading Mill or writing about Machiavelli. Because I’ll just have to get up and retrieve my laundry eventually, which would interrupt what I’m doing, which would distract me ANYWAY, so there’s no reason to even try. Even though I really need to get started on my final papers. Ug, eighth week.
My eyes are burning because I used a ton of bleach in an attempt to clean my kitchen floor. This apartment is going to kill me. I bought a mini-humidifier but it is still 19,000 degrees in here, so I have to do a routine of open window/freeze/close window at least a few times a night. I am still dehydrated. I keep refilling my water bottle. I spent the morning taking lots of notes on Diderot; nothing like French liberalism first thing in the morning.
Today was kind of awesome because David Dyzenhaus was the lecture for political theory workshop. I know that means nothing to anyone else, but I just got his new book, and I’m totally using him in my thesis, and I got to ask him a relevant question. As I’ve mentioned, I had never heard of Carl Schmitt before I came to U Chicago; it was my precept who recommended the class to me. So I told him on Thursday night I was really glad he recommended it, because Concept of the Political was one of the most provocative things I’ve read, and because this is how I got my thesis topic, and because Schmitt basically goes into a lot of critiques of liberal democracy that I’d already had, but had never quite been able to articulate. And my precept was like “Oh great, I’ve turned Rachel into a Nazi.” Hee.
It occuried to me today that, given my LJ whore-dom, I should start a Schmittian blog and start posting pieces of my thesis. Not because anyone would read it, but because I can’t for the life of me get a paper written, but I sure can churn out blog. Maybe I should just get together with the Long Sunday people.
Okay. I’m going to go waste 20 minutes looking up articles on eReserve, get my laundry, and maybe, just maybe start my Machiavelli paper.
