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So, I've been wracking my poor little brain & searching my poor little soul, trying to either a) come up with a topic for my first history paper, or b) just say "Fuck it!" & take the 0.
Well, I thought up a great paper - a letter from Abraham Lincoln's embalmer/funeral attendant (incidentally, his name was H.P. Callett & he worked for the Brown & Alexander funeral home - that information I got from the Congressional Cemetery historical archives online. There is no historical evidence that the guy actually traveled w/Lincoln's body, but that's why they call it 'creative writing', right?) on the 'death train' to the embalmer's wife (her name was Lydia - also from the Congressional cemetery archives). I originally thought that our 'letter from the past' could be from any person/thing from the dawn of the continent to 1865, & Abe died in 1865... then I read the instructions again & found I only could go up to 1750. Damnit!!! Here I am w/a great, slightly morbid, sort of funny paper and it's useless!
So, basically, I fucked myself. Burnt up a good 3 or 4 hours of research time & writing & rewriting for nothing. And here I am, in front of the 'Net, twiddling my thumbs with nothing. I don't know why it popped into my head, really - the thought that horses were once prehistoric natives to the American continent, and then they vanished at some point from the fossil records, only to reappear w/the Conquistadores. Cortez basically did one thing right in my righteously judgmental eyes - he brought the horse back home.
So I start matching up what I know, being a lover of prehistoric life forms and the American wild horse, aka mestizos, aka mestenos, aka mustangs... Added up to about 2 hrs. of 'Net research this morning, combined w/furious typing... and I started crying. Tears rolling down my cheeks, shuddering bottom lip, runny nose. So lovely, eh? Why do I cry when I write anymore? There is nothing in this paper that should make me cry.
( From the American Wild Horse )
Well, I thought up a great paper - a letter from Abraham Lincoln's embalmer/funeral attendant (incidentally, his name was H.P. Callett & he worked for the Brown & Alexander funeral home - that information I got from the Congressional Cemetery historical archives online. There is no historical evidence that the guy actually traveled w/Lincoln's body, but that's why they call it 'creative writing', right?) on the 'death train' to the embalmer's wife (her name was Lydia - also from the Congressional cemetery archives). I originally thought that our 'letter from the past' could be from any person/thing from the dawn of the continent to 1865, & Abe died in 1865... then I read the instructions again & found I only could go up to 1750. Damnit!!! Here I am w/a great, slightly morbid, sort of funny paper and it's useless!
So, basically, I fucked myself. Burnt up a good 3 or 4 hours of research time & writing & rewriting for nothing. And here I am, in front of the 'Net, twiddling my thumbs with nothing. I don't know why it popped into my head, really - the thought that horses were once prehistoric natives to the American continent, and then they vanished at some point from the fossil records, only to reappear w/the Conquistadores. Cortez basically did one thing right in my righteously judgmental eyes - he brought the horse back home.
So I start matching up what I know, being a lover of prehistoric life forms and the American wild horse, aka mestizos, aka mestenos, aka mustangs... Added up to about 2 hrs. of 'Net research this morning, combined w/furious typing... and I started crying. Tears rolling down my cheeks, shuddering bottom lip, runny nose. So lovely, eh? Why do I cry when I write anymore? There is nothing in this paper that should make me cry.
( From the American Wild Horse )
