I think that there's a battle being waged for my soul at the moment and all I really want to do is mail off all of the various proposals currently in my possession and sleep. In the tug of war between whether I shall be a specialist in Russian or Czech literature, both sides, and they both claim to have my best interests at heart, are, to be blunt, pissing me off. The powers-that-be have decided that I will forever work under and with my second reader, Doctor S. (and there are worse fates), who is very much a cultural imperialist, and never under or with my advisor, Doctor Cz. Doctor Cz. has retaliated and informed me that I do nothing except sit around and gaze upon Doctor S.. I have a couple of problems with this: 1. My mindless activity of choice is not gazing upon Doctor S., it's mail art. 2. When did I become the problem? I thought that the powers-that-be were the problem. I suppose that you crush whoever you can get a hold of. -Zh.


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