An Epiphany

My desk is a pigsty, as is the floor around it, and all because of this essay. However, I am not actually complaining about the process of writing it. Not for a while. Shall I post you a picture? Why in Earth not?!?!





























As you can tell, I am failing miserably at this whole "don't post pictures so frequently" thing. Soon I will be cataloging intimate details of all my roommates in picture form, such as where Julie hides her nerds, where Mary Kate puts her underwear, and where Kat keeps her drugs.

Today, I used the microfilms for the first time at the Reg, and it was SO MUCH COOLER reading old English on a microfilm than a packet. I mildly felt like Julia Roberts in The Pelican Brief. I don't remember if she used microfilms or not, because the only thing I remember right now is the making-out scene with her boyfriend, him exploding, her sitting at a desk with a lamp writing, and when she and Denzel Washington race out of her car before being blown to smithereens in a parking lot structure.

Oh, and some spy in high heels and a business suit chasing after them in said parking lot structure.

All of that, naturally, occurred because she used microfilm to research Mr. Pelican or Dr. Brief. Whichever it was. And I am totally sure that I am causing the FBI to go on high alert by researching chinoiserie in 17th c. England and how it represented the society and incorporation of French and Dutch Baroque elements. Completely positive.

Don't be surprised if this essay is published posthumously in a really awesomely prominent art history magazine and you see my name all over the press.