Friday, March 5, 2010
In which I say TTFN to Philly
Tonight is my last night in the city of brotherly love -- and since I am an A+ procrastinator, I'm writing this blog post instead of actually putting my clothes in my suitcases. I'm kind of just hoping I can acquire telekinetic powers, blink, and my room will be packed. I'll let you know how that goes. Nevertheless, I'm going to do a recap of my favorite moments from the last few days, followed by the last installment (at least for now) of the Bromance of 1801.
So, some of my favorite moments this week included...
1) Going to another secret history salon and watching notable historians get progressively more tipsy whilst discussing loyalists in post-revolutionary America. Also, food of choice at said swanky get-together = doritos.
2) Today was a series of goodbyes, but my hands down favorite one was with my historian buddy (Mister Rogers). This conversation happened as he walked by my desk this morning.
HistorianBuddy: So....today's your last day.......bye.
Me: OH! Yea. Bye?
HB: *lingers around desk* So.......do you think you're going to grad school soon?
Me: *long rambling answer that basically said "I don't know"*
HB: Oh.....ok......well, come back soon. We'll miss you. *walks into office and closes door*
I was both confused and endeared.
3) All my favorite people at work decided to take me to out for happy hour today (woo being a quasi-adult!). They then gave me some goodbye gifts, which consisted of: a necklace, a cupcake AND cupcake case for future cupcakes I need to travel with, and a "Join, or Die" colonial political cartoon t-shirt.....may have been the best triumvirate of gifts ever received.
Now onto the final installment of the Bromance of 1801! I must admit, I've become oddly fond of Weems and Mathew, so I'm hoping I can write about them again soon. But, until then, I'll leave you with this last interlude, which happens to be the last letter Weems wrote to Mathew....at least until they rekindled things a few months later. Oh, the drama. This letter had many gems, my particular favorite being when he pulled a "we're like Brutus and Caesar!" but somehow tried to turn it into a good thing. It's unclear if Weems actually listened during history class. Nevertheless, here is the final paragraph of said goodbye letter....
Oct 5th, 1805
But though I trust I shall never cease to feel a joy, in secret, whenever I think of Mathew Carey and the smiles that brighten his face whenever I enter his dwelling, yet I deem it my duty to remind him of one fact which may dispose him at our coming settlement, to do me that justice which I believe ever to have been your wish. I said that you have been unjust and offensive to me – not intentionally, for my abandonment of everything to your integrity is proof that I never dream you capable of injuring me intentionally -- but efficiently, you certainly have.
Perhaps in the ultimate result, all things may work together for good to M. Carey and to M.L. Weems. Compliments to Mrs. Carey.
-ML Weems
And on that note, I leave you with an AHFOD! In reading random documents, I've come across a few words and phrases that I feel we need to bring back in 2010. Because, really, who wouldn't want to spice up their lexical toolbox with these unfortunately-forgotten 1830s phrases. I think I'll try to slip these into conversation on the plane tomorrow (I know, future-seat-neighbor, get excited.)
Huckleberry above a persimmon: a cut above
Example: Ben Franklin is a huckleberry above most people's persimmons.
Honeyfuggle: to deceive by flatter or sweet-talk.
Example: Politicians.
Talk with you from the left coast!
So, some of my favorite moments this week included...
1) Going to another secret history salon and watching notable historians get progressively more tipsy whilst discussing loyalists in post-revolutionary America. Also, food of choice at said swanky get-together = doritos.
2) Today was a series of goodbyes, but my hands down favorite one was with my historian buddy (Mister Rogers). This conversation happened as he walked by my desk this morning.
HistorianBuddy: So....today's your last day.......bye.
Me: OH! Yea. Bye?
HB: *lingers around desk* So.......do you think you're going to grad school soon?
Me: *long rambling answer that basically said "I don't know"*
HB: Oh.....ok......well, come back soon. We'll miss you. *walks into office and closes door*
I was both confused and endeared.
3) All my favorite people at work decided to take me to out for happy hour today (woo being a quasi-adult!). They then gave me some goodbye gifts, which consisted of: a necklace, a cupcake AND cupcake case for future cupcakes I need to travel with, and a "Join, or Die" colonial political cartoon t-shirt.....may have been the best triumvirate of gifts ever received.
Now onto the final installment of the Bromance of 1801! I must admit, I've become oddly fond of Weems and Mathew, so I'm hoping I can write about them again soon. But, until then, I'll leave you with this last interlude, which happens to be the last letter Weems wrote to Mathew....at least until they rekindled things a few months later. Oh, the drama. This letter had many gems, my particular favorite being when he pulled a "we're like Brutus and Caesar!" but somehow tried to turn it into a good thing. It's unclear if Weems actually listened during history class. Nevertheless, here is the final paragraph of said goodbye letter....
Oct 5th, 1805
But though I trust I shall never cease to feel a joy, in secret, whenever I think of Mathew Carey and the smiles that brighten his face whenever I enter his dwelling, yet I deem it my duty to remind him of one fact which may dispose him at our coming settlement, to do me that justice which I believe ever to have been your wish. I said that you have been unjust and offensive to me – not intentionally, for my abandonment of everything to your integrity is proof that I never dream you capable of injuring me intentionally -- but efficiently, you certainly have.
Perhaps in the ultimate result, all things may work together for good to M. Carey and to M.L. Weems. Compliments to Mrs. Carey.
-ML Weems
And on that note, I leave you with an AHFOD! In reading random documents, I've come across a few words and phrases that I feel we need to bring back in 2010. Because, really, who wouldn't want to spice up their lexical toolbox with these unfortunately-forgotten 1830s phrases. I think I'll try to slip these into conversation on the plane tomorrow (I know, future-seat-neighbor, get excited.)
Huckleberry above a persimmon: a cut above
Example: Ben Franklin is a huckleberry above most people's persimmons.
Honeyfuggle: to deceive by flatter or sweet-talk.
Example: Politicians.
Talk with you from the left coast!
Monday, March 1, 2010
In which I have some updates.
It's March! Unclear how that happened, but apparently Philadelphia has decided that it will stop blizzarding for a few days, and pretend it's California in winter. That is, until it starts snowing again on Wednesday. Makes getting dressed in the morning a fun challenge.
Nevertheless, I have some kind of unfortunate updates. I've been starting to realize that, though Philly and my internship may be beneficial for my full initiation into historical nerd-dom, they may not be so great for the actual completion of my thesis (oh, that.). So, in an attempt to prioritize, I've decided to cut my internship a bit short, and head home this Saturday. I'm beyond bummed that I'll have to wrap up my projects at the archive (I may or may not have had a 'moment' whilst perusing some census documents today), but turning in a thesis I'm vaguely proud of is important. Also important = graduating. So, I'll be off to California to burrow in library books, and perhaps become less blindingly pale.
In case you were curious, I DO plan on continuing to blog, since I'll still be researching and amidst historical documents galore. And I'm having a hard time letting go of the AHFOD. So, if you still want to check in, I'll be here!
On that note, I decided to go to work today, so I can finish up my projects and enjoy a full last week at the archive. We're full swing in fellowship application season, so I helped today in the office with data entry of applications. And yes, it was as exciting as it sounds. But, I decided to play a little game (lesson #1 of only children).
All applications have project titles -- most fellows are PhD candidates finishing their dissertations -- and their title should be reflective of all the amazing research they have done and will do. And though all applicants have stellar backgrounds and stellar credentials, some titles were just plain unfortunate. As I perused over 150 applications, I started noticing a trend, which I have broken down below. While some titles were catchy, provocative, and smart, others were...well, not. Though I can't provide actual titles, I've established 4 categories that tended to be the most common, and examples of titles that would fit into them (note: these are not actual titles. I did in fact make these up...but I feel they capture the spirit of some of the actual project titles). Without further ado, I present the Titles: Bringing Smart People Trouble since 9th Grade awards. [Note: To be a legitimate academic work, my professor once told me that you must have two somewhat related phrases, connected by a colon. Wise words: I followed her advice.]
1) The "Uh huh. Uh huh. What?" category
Example: The Sole of the South: Exorcism and Shoe-making in Antebellum New Orleans
2) The "No, really, make this sound MORE thrilling" category
Example: Account Books, Pencils, and Erasers: A History of American Credit
3) The "Just....too much." category
Example: Mayhem, Crafts, Explosions, and Wenches: A History of Glitter, 1776-1860
4) The "Please, make it more obvious that this will only be circulated amidst academics" category
Example: Hegemonic Intertexuality Betwixt Bodies: A Geo-Historical Study of the Otherized Canine Community
Now, I leave you with an AHFOD! I was talking with one of the fellows the other day, and we got on the topic of yellow fever, as you do. Anyway, he told me that yellow fever may have been responsible for America being the vast country it is today. It was a pretty big deal at the turn of the 19th century (it killed over 10% of Philadelphia's population in a bad epidemic in 1793), and in 1802, it killed nearly 30,000 French soldiers in the French territories near New Orleans. Thinking it would be too costly and too much effort to maintain posts there, Napoleon sold the land for four cents an acre, doubling the size of the United States in what would become known as the Louisiana Purchase.
And with that, I'm off to my second historical salon/cult gathering tomorrow night - will most certainly report back.
Nevertheless, I have some kind of unfortunate updates. I've been starting to realize that, though Philly and my internship may be beneficial for my full initiation into historical nerd-dom, they may not be so great for the actual completion of my thesis (oh, that.). So, in an attempt to prioritize, I've decided to cut my internship a bit short, and head home this Saturday. I'm beyond bummed that I'll have to wrap up my projects at the archive (I may or may not have had a 'moment' whilst perusing some census documents today), but turning in a thesis I'm vaguely proud of is important. Also important = graduating. So, I'll be off to California to burrow in library books, and perhaps become less blindingly pale.
In case you were curious, I DO plan on continuing to blog, since I'll still be researching and amidst historical documents galore. And I'm having a hard time letting go of the AHFOD. So, if you still want to check in, I'll be here!
On that note, I decided to go to work today, so I can finish up my projects and enjoy a full last week at the archive. We're full swing in fellowship application season, so I helped today in the office with data entry of applications. And yes, it was as exciting as it sounds. But, I decided to play a little game (lesson #1 of only children).
All applications have project titles -- most fellows are PhD candidates finishing their dissertations -- and their title should be reflective of all the amazing research they have done and will do. And though all applicants have stellar backgrounds and stellar credentials, some titles were just plain unfortunate. As I perused over 150 applications, I started noticing a trend, which I have broken down below. While some titles were catchy, provocative, and smart, others were...well, not. Though I can't provide actual titles, I've established 4 categories that tended to be the most common, and examples of titles that would fit into them (note: these are not actual titles. I did in fact make these up...but I feel they capture the spirit of some of the actual project titles). Without further ado, I present the Titles: Bringing Smart People Trouble since 9th Grade awards. [Note: To be a legitimate academic work, my professor once told me that you must have two somewhat related phrases, connected by a colon. Wise words: I followed her advice.]
1) The "Uh huh. Uh huh. What?" category
Example: The Sole of the South: Exorcism and Shoe-making in Antebellum New Orleans
2) The "No, really, make this sound MORE thrilling" category
Example: Account Books, Pencils, and Erasers: A History of American Credit
3) The "Just....too much." category
Example: Mayhem, Crafts, Explosions, and Wenches: A History of Glitter, 1776-1860
4) The "Please, make it more obvious that this will only be circulated amidst academics" category
Example: Hegemonic Intertexuality Betwixt Bodies: A Geo-Historical Study of the Otherized Canine Community
Now, I leave you with an AHFOD! I was talking with one of the fellows the other day, and we got on the topic of yellow fever, as you do. Anyway, he told me that yellow fever may have been responsible for America being the vast country it is today. It was a pretty big deal at the turn of the 19th century (it killed over 10% of Philadelphia's population in a bad epidemic in 1793), and in 1802, it killed nearly 30,000 French soldiers in the French territories near New Orleans. Thinking it would be too costly and too much effort to maintain posts there, Napoleon sold the land for four cents an acre, doubling the size of the United States in what would become known as the Louisiana Purchase.
And with that, I'm off to my second historical salon/cult gathering tomorrow night - will most certainly report back.
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