I have two mid-terms tomorrow. They should go alright. I've been studying for them. Well, one of them. The other is listening, and I'm not sure how to study for that other than be able to write what you're hearing. I've got another one on Friday, and then for a weekend to forget about the midterms.

Tonight we're going out for what is supposed to be the best pizza in Beijing. This place also touts Belgian beer, though I think we'll leave that alone.

I'm so ready for this week to be over so I don't have to dread the tests anymore. I guess all this studying does me good in the long run, but I really wish they'd test us periodically and not just twice a semester. It's unnerving.

My roommate will heretofore be referred to as The Professor because of his propensity for buying books and thinking that blazers with elbow patches are cool. I've decided that just calling him my roommate is boring. Also, my American friend is now to be called Cowboy. Because he's kind of a good ol' boy without being the bad things that necessarily entails. Among these I'm the one who doesn't shoot guns often or pee with the door open or sleep until 3. I shower at the same time every day and own scarves.

I guess we're all different. I feel like having an uncomfortable conversation with someone. Not bad uncomfortable, just beyond surface level, and not about ancient texts. I want to talk to someone about the use of color in What Dreams May Come or the meaning of the title in its original context in Hamlet. I want someone to engage with me about the things I love. But neither The Professor nor Cowboy are versed in these things, and I can't fault them for that. I wish someone else knew who Julie Tamor is. Heck, I'd settle for someone who's read Kafka or Kingsolver. It's not that I feel somehow more enlightened than anyone here. It just seems that my realm isn't the same as anyone else's. And my Chinese is not nearly where it would need to be to discuss these things with nationals. Please.

Here's to me getting a grant.

T