Yesterday I saw a toad while I was walking down a street in the middle of the night. Of course, I screamed at the top of my lungs when I realized the leaf jumping across my path was in fact a toad. The screaming was followed by a distinct urge to call my friend Sarah and tell her that I saw a toad. I try not to analyze these urges. She told me that I can call her anytime I come across a toad.
2003-09-23, toad in the road
Some people are amused that I use phrases like "unheimlich" and "belly fire" in my music reviews.
Perhaps I shouldn't be allowed to write these things anymore.
2003-09-17, requiem pour un con
There was a point when I was walking along the gravel back to my room and I almost felt like ducking into a bush and throwing up. I realized that I had probably been in the wrong in the past. I realized that I was unlikely to apologize. This isn't the first or the last time that I've realized I had made mistakes and behaved poorly, but it had never struck me so suddenly and unexpectedly. I didn't want to add it to the list, I didn't want to.
2003-09-16, me and my charms
Big white dogs, the prospect of more Georgian soda, hip hop, DIY orgasms, sleeping late, left-over coffee cake, the fact that there were once 19 foot sloths and there are still Mola Molas, tea for two with Jessie, papasan chairs, the films of Melies, the fact that I know what a Mola Mola is, French cheeses and Australian wines, the prospect of toiletries from France, good posture, red t-shirts, belly laughter and belly fire, the sun on the back of my neck.
2003-09-16, Reasons why I can't be bothered to kill myself today
Would that my ferocious moods were always here!
2003-09-11, Singing in the w!
I had a good academic day.
In my first class, I balked at something the professor said about Native Americans, and instead of seething away inwardly in proper Margaret fashion I actually mentioned my point. And he acknowledged me. And that my point was a pretty good one. Oh, frabjous day! I never do things like that.
Then we talked about how the eucharist is like ritual cannibalism and I was in heaven.
In my second class, she said "We'll have to talk about this the next class," and to my shock the hour and a half had already passed. This never happens.
I love my film class beyond all recognition and reason. And even though she had us read some article full of stuff about structuralism and I just kinda zoned out for that. But the films have been FabULous. I'm so happy about it.
I MUST DO MORE WORK. Oh dear. George is coming this weekend for sure and that's thoroughly exciting. But I hate this work business. I'd Rather Be Fishing. One reader response for this week down, Two to go!
I want to sit all of you down and watch silent films with you.
2003-09-09, slide my way under your skin
A paragraph on the Deutsche Mark and I can't focus. Soviets and Bizonia are dancing in my head but sometimes I just don't want to bother. I have such a hard time studying. One of my friends thinks that I shouldn't go to grad school, which makes that 115$ I just spent on the GRE today feel a little silly. I don't know what's wrong with me, life would be so much less complicated if I could just buckle down and work really hard this week, but I'm such a space cadet. And not in that nice, charming way (though I like to think I'm nice and charming other times) but this is not good.
2003-09-09, it's like eating cooked spinach
It occurs to me that any man who marries me will have to get used to a LOT of acquiescing. Mwahahahahah! Cause that's how I like 'em, whipped!
Spiritless drones carrying out the Queens every whim.
2003-09-08, a broken form of man
So George was asking me questions about babies, and I was getting increasingly cranky (lucky him), but I think I know why.
He asked me what I would do if my husband wanted to stay home with the baby instead of me. I feel like this is something I should make explicit with any man I want to marry - he's welcome to stay home but I want to more than life itself so unless he's independently wealthy or I won the lotto someone has to go to work. I don't think I'll marry someone who won't acquiesce to me on this point. It's not like I expect to take care of the house, or do all the childraising with no input from my husband, but my hunch right now is that I want to stay with anything that springs from my loins for a good few years.
Then he asks what will I do when children have left the house? Like my life will have ended? I'll go back to school, I'll go back to work, I won't sit around moping, I'll do whatever I damned please to do including but not limited to taking up goat sacrificing again and perhaps crochet. Fucking love crochet. But you know what? Careers can wait, but it's a biological fact that babies cannot.
One of the women I work for recently gave birth and was giving generous maternity leave. My supervisors were standing around, and talking about the decisions women make with regard to timing, babies, and careers. One of my bosses said that some decisions could not have been made until she came to them. Once she had her baby, she knew she had to stay with him. That was all there was to it. And she said that she had been pregnant but miscarried while in graduate school, which turned out to be a blessing because her graduate school had left no time for her baby. I said "It's a tough thing to be a woman sometimes," and my other boss - who's gay and doesn't have any children - said "Only if you want children."
Well, I don't think it's an unreasonable thing to want to act on your biological urges. And I'm well aware that most biological urges do you damned near no good in modern life, but I think childbearing is a big one and I want a baby. If you don't feel that urge, good for you, but it's becoming far more apparent to me as the years go by that I am.
Also, I don't know why I'm thinking about what I'm going to be doing in thirty years, because I don't even know what I'm doing next year. My mother says that she finally felt settled when she had me, and my uncomfortable restlessness most days is because I have not felt settled in years.
I finally met someone on my hall, and of course I was drunk out of my head. Ah, it's what you've come to expect from me eh? I ran into her this morning and she just laughed and laughed and reintroduced herself, and said that I was just "so happy and funny" and so good at spreading it. Then she asked if I was still drunk, and I said "Nah, I'm like this sober." Why I drink at all is beyond me, but anyway. I was so touched and furthermore thrilled that she wasn't annoyed with me.
2003-09-07, a part of my soul is awake today
Sie sind eine Wichse! Sie sind eine Wichse! How could I forget, Ariel? Well, I'm definitely your one stop shop in terms of wild crazy mood swings.
Reason number 3642 I'm going to the Hell for Obnoxious people: I stubbornly refuse to recognize Paul Simon lyrics are actually Paul Simon lyrics.
Ariel, I'm going to send you some Soft Boys when I get off my lazy bum. But their songs are delightful! They are akin to Simon and Garfunkel, though more British and more rock-ish. They were a failure in the 70s but have been rediscovered. My favorite song goes "Iiiiii wanna destroy YOU!" Okay, I have about five favorite songs. One is "There's nobody like you." "Well if you're name's mucky / You can count yourself lucky that you're still walking around on four feet." Or "Insanely Jealous" where he is insanely jealous of the hair on your back. They also ask the important existentialist question "Where are the prawns?" Indeed. Where are the prawns?
2003-09-05, but i'm insanely jealous
I'm trying to convince my friend to put "You (formal) are a wanker" in her German exam. It's the only German I know, and it's a damned useful phrase.
I've decided the party I want to throw. I want to have a Pirates of the Caribbean party. It'll be lovely - all kinds of rum-based drinks with parasols, and a screening of Pirates of the Caribbean. In my senior seminar class, my (darling) professor mentioned his fascination with pirates as an academic field. He started out very seriously, telling us that he's interested in the people marginalized by historians in the past, when someone interrupted him about Pirates of the Caribbean. He ensured my lifelong devotion by saying that it was an entirely entertaining film, and that Johnny Depp was the pinacle of one of the three main ways pirates are depicted in movies. I was so deeply thrilled. I am easily thrilled, I suppose I should add.
I would like a Pirate party, or perhaps a wine and cheese party. Sarah got very excited when I mentioned the possibility, and most of her excitement centered around the possibility of there being cheese for us to eat. Perhaps there will even be thirty year old trivial pursuit, but I make no promises.
Academically, it's shaping up to be a lovely semester. Huge amounts of work, of course, which might be a shock to my system after the utter sloth that Wales was, but I know I can handle it.
My film class is dreamy. We looked at a very early Edison film, called "The Gay Shoe Clerk." Shame upon us, no one in my class snickered at this precursor to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Anyway, the Gay Shoe Clerk was fitting a shoe for a young woman, accompanied by her governess. The young slattern slowly lets her dress drift up her calf, as the Gay Shoe Clerk is tying her laces, revealing her dark woollen stockings. Finally, he can no longer resist, and starts tongue kissing her. The governess suddenly takes an interest in the affair, and (hilariously!) beats the Gay Shoe Clerk with her parasol. If I hadn't been in class, I would have been on the floor, suffering paroxysms of laughter. Yes, paroxysms. Oh, and all of the characters were probably played by men. I don't know why it amuses me so much, or if it should, but I found it hilarious.
It's nice to shake off the sullen mood, even if it's for one evening. I'll take it. I never been a proud woman in this regard. Or any regard, truth be told.
Particularly in terms of men! Oh poor George, I don't think I'd date me. My friend who set us up is trying to pretend that she had no intention of doing so. She lies, but the thing is that she really doesn't need to. I think she's worried that if anything goes wrong, I'll blame her, but I say whatever. If he had turned out to be some four-eyed Russian commie, I would have ditched him like yesterday's news. I make my own decisions and hold nobody but myself responsible. And I how I like him. Mercy me.
Look at me, I'm such a fucking girly girl. My 15 year old self is rolling her eyes. Thank God I went tonight to embiggen my manly muscles.
2003-09-04, I live in the nightgown of the sullen moon
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