So I'm vaguely inspired to go back and study more sociology, particularly of the "micro" variety--I'm reminded of the sexy dream in 1984 in which Winston dreams of the Golden Country and wakes up with the word "Shakespeare" on his lips, only on my lips would be the words "Goffman" for all the forgotten promise of freshman year--I used to be much more of a generalist and dabbler--these days I working-classedly fritter away my time doing the same thing Over and Over Again as they say. All this redoery is founded on tonight's lecture, which makes me take more structural-Marxist approaches more seriously--somehow the statistics that one needs for real hardcore sociology is the sort of thing we should be aiming for, not more algebraic manipulation.

Parents are always odd to meet and greet, with my broken espanish and optimistic attitude, as well as my apologetic Chinese and bogus evidence of student progress. I feel like such a charlatan, and not the poetic kind that lurks around Nelsonian kiosks, but the mountebank whose laziness is ill-suited to this messy individualized mess.