lotesse: (narnia)
You know, there's a (damaged) part of me that really does believe in love virginity - except coming from the opposite angle of the sex-negative fundamentalist doctrine Libby Anne discusses at the above. Instead of fearing that I was in danger of losing the purity and intactness of my heart as a younger girl, I now find myself horribly convinced that, having oddly enough played by (most) of the old rules, having committed myself to forever with my first boyfriend & first sex partner but then having had that go all to hell, I've irretrivably lost the valuable commodity of a virgin heart. I no longer have one to offer. And without one I feel resourceless.

I know that's broken logic, but that's how it feels, right now, deep down inside. I am glad to have language for it, though, & will seek to do some patching. It's a way that I feel out of touch with my age cohort, because I keep finding emotional resonance in the words of older divorcees leaving long-term marriages that few of my friends have had the time to build as of yet.

I do wonder where I picked this stuff up in the first place.
lotesse: (narnia)
I've spent several hours tonight reading Love, Joy, Feminism, by Libby Anne, a blog by a survivor of Christian Patriarchy, and I'm nowhere near through. I didn't expect to find personal connection when I opened a link to her so much as sociocultural analysis, but there are a number of interesting intersections between her experiences and mine: a child of a family-centered family with a lot of closeness and some major boundary issues, a former funny old-fashioned little girl who liked to sew patchwork and wear Laura Ingalls Wilder dresses (and also couldn't afford entrance to the worlds of mall fashion and pop music that my peers inhabited), someone who essentially "married" her very first boyfriend as a young teen. Not to mention my years of decidedly secular but also decidedly oddball homeschooling and the distrust for mainstream culture my parents raised me to. Opposite ideological bent, but same basic set of doctrines: question them, they're not to be trusted. The family way is Best.

There's a weird balance between liberalism and conservatism in being an outsider, I think; I couldn't have been brought up with more radical politics, and certainly in the eyes of Christian Patriarchalists I have been the worst of sinners, but in other ways I recognize the defensive snobbery of the girl-child who wants to believe that she's better than the other girls because she's industrious and family-oriented instead of crass or materialistic, and I'm not sure it mattered that much that my parents were anti-capitalist intellectuals instead of religious fundamentalists, not in the virtuous outsider social psychology of that sort of thing.

But it's awkward, because I still also do often think that the family ways I was raised to ARE Best, really & truly, and I want to be loyal to them.

Relatedly (?), I guess my Mormon childhood bff and intermittent crush object is also moving back up north. I have ... complex? ... feelings about this.
lotesse: (sillycat)
Emerson Cod has a framed print of my grandmother's 1933 Chicago World's Fair poster hanging in his office. I can't even.

My grandmother was born in Chicago in '33, a World's Fair baby, and she's got a tremendous collection of related stuff, but that poster - the one by Glen C. Sheffer, with the lady standing on the globe with her arms outreached - is the one she's always had most prominently on display. In quiet tribute to her, I've used it as an opening object in my science-fiction-topic comp class, and three circular detail-crops top my current syllabus. Suffice it to say that the image is majorly iconic for me and seeing it in this show is blowing my heart to confused sentimental bits.
lotesse: (faerie)
Partway through the third season I'm still really enjoying Farscape; I appreciate the way it keeps bending my brain around in weird ways. But watching it is also kind of like playing Crazy Chicken. While I'd picked up the analysis from fannish osmosis of John Crichton as raped, I wasn't prepared AT ALL for the degree to which the show/Ben Browder are dedicated to the depiction of the cracks in his psyche. This is a show about madness - and while at the moment I find that topic deeply compelling I have to admit that there have been moments when I've had to tap out. I couldn't handle the clone arc, just couldn't handle it. I feel so on edge, watching, because I worry that they're going to crack his sanity like an egg at any moment.

And then there are the bits like "Look at the Princess" and "Liars, Guns, and Money," which are just altogether delightful and delicious and delovely and man I love SF multiparters. I'm really into John/Aeryn as a ship, no surprise there. I already knew that I was in love with Claudia Black because duh who isn't, but Gigi Edgly is charming the pants off of me, and I also am really digging on John&Chiana as a platonic bffs deal.

I bopped over into Pushing Daisies because I did kind of need a break from the psychological intensity of Farscape. I'd seen half of the first episode of the second season at home with my parents, and we'd backbuttoned out because it was clear we'd missed too much context by not starting from the beginning. I am PRIMED for Lee Pace; his movie The Fall has been occupying a lot of my psychic real estate since I saw it a few years back, and I just his face. However I did not anticipate the degree or speed with/to which I am DEAD GONE on Ned the Piemaker, who I lust after with more fervor than I've experienced in rather a while. Despite the whimsical charms of lonely tourist Charlotte Charles I ttly ship Ned/Olive; Cheno is da bomb and I cannot resist her squawky little voice. My sib and I spent a lot of hours listening to Jim Dale read the Harry Potter books, so I also pick up a lot of snuggly comfort from his narration.

Aren't media texts with narrators cool? I was trying to list other ones in my head last night and could only come up with Sally Potter's Orlando and Stranger Than Fiction, though I guess you could also say that most of Baz Lurhmann's films and, like, Singin in the Rain are also essentially narrated, just through a variety of schticks rather than an Eliotian interpretive voice from on high.
lotesse: (Default)
state of the me: too busy, too stressed. I'm really looking forward to next month, when I'll be out of school (for good! at least for a while) and able to focus on regrouping, recentering, rebuilding. money is bothersome; I'm too paro and anxious to run close to the financial margin for long without getting fretful.

How do you guys talk to people you care about - family chosen or otherwise - about digital support networks? I ask because as a quiet loner people do fuss about me, and I don't feel like I've ever managed to get across just how powerful digital connection can be. I think they see digital networks as a prosthetic, a stand-in for the social life they think I'm too shy or damaged or whatever to seek out. But. I can't even imagine the last decade of my life without internet media fandom and all the wonderful people it's helped me meet and talk to. Mama talks up the benefit of friends who aren't your be-all and end-all, they maybe rub you wrong ways but they're a social group - but I think there's also something intensely marvelous about the way that digital connection seems to short-circuit small talk, the way it plunges you right into the intensest of intimacies.

when I write that here, I'm confident that y'all will feel me. I wish I could figure out how to get normspace folk to do the same.

(I've been consuming media like a mofo in the attempt to conquer my massive piles of grading, so when I am more able to words on the subject I will post about Farscape and Pushing Daisies, both of which are giving me feelings of the most intense and delightful kind. I meant to do that when I opened the entry window but words are apparently feeling slippery.)
lotesse: (joss)
y'all, Chiana and Kenzi totally need to hang out and be paranatural trickster bffs with boss fashion sense.

(Farscape is wack, yo. excellent, but wack. I think that without an educated understanding of the relationship between sex, power, and pain, watching it might feel awfully strange. it's still pretty strange - but I like it like that)

(also tho, is it just me or is this season of Lost Girl also kind of strange and upsetting? I'm not sure how I feel about it. I keep getting distracted by the way that flashback!Bo, on the train, is costumed in a way that does nothing to conceal Anna Silk's pregnancy - don't get me wrong, she's gorg, but I keep getting cues for a secret/supernatural amnesic/dubcon pregnancy narrative and I don't think there is one? idk I miss the time the Kappas had a kappa. Kenzi/Hale, while hot hot hot, just isn't the same. Tho - how great would that plotline be done up YA-style in Kenzi's pov - street urchin discovers world of the fae, has lady succubus bff, romances the hotass young king of faerie. I'd read it.)
lotesse: (faerie)
Watching Farscape pretty much for the first time - I'd seen the first few eps, but the Ex didn't like it and I didn't press. Up to 1.16. I like this show. Very loyalty kink. Much nonnormative. Fun to play in an English-language SF verse that isn't British/American too!
lotesse: (north)
this afternoon I let myself test the heft of the idea of walking away from the university - and as soon as I let myself I felt so good. It reminded me of the morning when my parents asked me if I'd like to never have to go back to elementary school, if I'd like to be homeschooled instead.

There's no one here I'm interested in, is the truth - I don't have a social network outside of the university, but increasingly the people inside the university look strange to me. My undergraduate honors thesis was a joy to write because I was working with two wonderful faculty members, women who inspired me and encouraged me and also helped me out when I was low; I can't think but part of my problem with my dissertation prospectus must be the total lack of collaboration or even intellectual community that I'm feeling here. And maybe, maybe it isn't me - maybe this just isn't the right fit, the right way for me to make and build the things I want to.

they pay me nothing, it's not like it would be hard to scrape up an equivalent amount even just through increased freelance work and maybe some tutoring gigs. And right now the idea of going home north to the big lake, being closer by my mother and grandmother - and my sib moved back north last month, too, after ditching her boyfriend, and I feel like if there's anyone in the world can bring me healing it'd be my sib - it sounds real good. I still have an extensive social network of older friends up north, and with my sib around I'd likely pick up some new ones my same age.

so maybe I ditch out after this semester is over, save up some cash over the summer, and when my lease is up in August I get to wave farewell to B-Town. I'm going to sit with it before I commit to anything, yeah, but ...
lotesse: (sillycat)
One of the things I love about fandom is that double feeling one sometimes gets on reading a fic summary, equal parts "god that is so wrong" and "yasss."
lotesse: (starwars)
Okay, is there a novelization somewhere that parses the tactical situation at the beginning of Return of the Jedi? Cuz - you have Luke insinuating the droids into Jabba's household, which seems to work out well, Jabba never actually catches on to that part, but then again what's up with R2 having Luke's lightsaber by the time you get to the execution scene, did he have it all along or did Luke somehow plant it? Lando's in there too, and seems to be working in tandem with Leia - but how much are they working with Luke? Leia and Lando clearly thought they were going to be able to sneak Han out without getting caught - and how does Jabba get the jump on them, anyway? - so Luke shouldn't have been planning on coming in at all; I always did get the impression that his entry onto the scene was a last-hope kind of deal, when everything's gone wrong Luke comes swooping in. Leia's surprised to see him; did she tell him what she and Lando were doing, or did he only find out once it all went to hell?

The reading that I like best, I think, is the one where the right and left hands are having some trouble communicating with each other - as we know they are, Luke is sitting on some major secrets, there's got to be some tension there, even in that last scene from ESB they're sweet together but there's also this closed-offness to them, a distance; compare the deleted scene from earlier in that film, in the medical center on Hoth, where they're warm and light and shiny with each other.

So. Luke suggests planting the droids as part of a long-span information-gathering project, and Leia knows they're there; but she and Lando, impatient, try to pull their con before the intelligence situation is completely clear, and so are unprepared to evade Jabba's internal spynet, leading to the disastrous expose of their attempt. Chewie's been assigned to the Princess, of course, so he's not an independent factor. Whatever communication system Luke has with - presumably R2? - informs him that his sister's gone and gotten herself sex-enslaved, he should maybe do something about that. I think he must plant his saber on R2 when he goes in, as a sensible precaution; of all of them, Luke the Tatooinian would be the least likely to underestimate the extent of Jabba's power and paranoia. Only I can't think when he could have done it. He's unarmed by the time he's fighting the Rancor, but it seems nonsensical that he would have given R2 his Jedi weapon all the way back when he sent the droids to Jabba's palace, especially if he didn't have concrete, immediate plans to go in himself.

If we could understand Chewie it would help - does he tell Han, down in Jabba's cells, that it's all right because Luke's part of the plan, getting caught is just a minor setback? or does he say that Luke's still out there, he's a Jedi Knight now you know, I'm sure he'll come for us when he finds out?

Either way, one of the things that I really like about Leia's bit with the thermal detonator is that it doesn't seem like girls get to pull those kinds of fucked up heroics that often. The droid stuff and the janked music conceal it a bit, but they're a pretty fucked up set by that point: Leia's suicide bombing and Luke's doing Force chokes with a wave of a finger. I have no doubt that the detonator was real, and that she really would have blown them all to hell if she'd been pushed to it. Girl ain't bluffing.
lotesse: (sorrow)
Blind inexpiable things (437 words) by lotesse
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: River Tam/Simon Tam
Characters: River Tam, Simon Tam, Jayne Cobb
Additional Tags: Episode Related, Episode: s01e09 Ariel, Mental Health Issues, Keats
Summary: Digital vivisection. She doesn't want him to see. She doesn't want the bed, the cutting bed, to show him her damaged and needy spine.
lotesse: (trek)
four things make a post:

- I love reading oldschool XF MSR work, because of how transparently women's wish-fulfillment it so often is - because there's some whole additional level of hot in knowing that you're reading the work of a powerful independent creative thoughtful woman theorizing her own revolutionary empowered sexuality via media interpretation, laid on top of the ordinary pleasure of the text.

- It consistently wrongfoots me that The X-Files, while a show about aliens and the search for extraterrestrial life, is not about first contact in the trekkie sort of way; not about xenopolitics, strange ways of being, the wonder of the encounter with true vital difference. I keep wanting to know about Reticulan attitudes toward fetal life, their reproductive politics. Or their perspective on contact with our, to them alien, world and worldview - do they have a Prime Directive? but the show isn't doing that, isn't about that.

- As charming as the magical realism of "The Rain King" may be, the episode is guilty of NiceGuyism and romanticization of coerced consent.

- Now that I think about it, nu!Trek isn't about first contact in the same way that classic Trek was; nu!Starfleet is presented imo as pretty much always already integrated, although of course actual on-screen representations skews heavily white-dude-wards. But, like, we've known the Vulcans for a long time in that verse; the presence of multiplanetary life forms clearly borders on the passe there. Contrast with TOS, where yes we've made a few interplanetary contacts but closer alliances are only just beginning to form, where Spock serving as first officer on a Federation ship alongside humans actually seems to be something of an anomaly - which, it would have to be, considering that none of the Federation people know about the existence of pon farr. TOS McCoy is constantly having to theorize alien physiology on the fly, because while they're a United Federation of Planets in name, these people are only beginning to really enter into the interplanetary field. I wonder what that shift is about - does more racial integration erase the primacy of the fantasy of difference? and does that erasure benefit or harm goals toward infinite diversity in infinite combinations?
lotesse: (faerie)
I had two moments, over the weekend, when I felt like I was perfectly accomplishing my job - whatever that means. But I often don't get much out of praise, and these were kind of rare moments when I felt proud and good, and I wanted to write them down observationally, as data points.

The first was with my grandmother. Last month, one of the first communications we got at our seance last month was from Great-Grandmother Annabelle, which isn't surprising considering that she's the strongest psychic we've had in the family, our minister and medium. She said that she was speaking for all the grandmothers when she told us to BE KIND, and said that white feathers would be her manifestation for us. After that I started wearing the sets of feather earrings that I'd accumulated, liking the aesthetic, but not worn out of vague antihipsterism and worried feelings about native appropriation (a concern that my father's family decidedly does not share; they're respectful and educated, but they still fetishize native culture & objects in a way that makes me uncomfortable). I've got a set of actual feathers with coppery bits, and a set of cheap pressed silver ones that are sort of awesomely long and dramatic, and when I went to visit grandmother on my way out of town I was wearing the silver ones. Not only did she notice them right off and ask me about them, she kept delightedly returning to the subject throughout my visit. She was pleased as pie when I told her I'd been wearing real feathers more often; she said that great-grandmother would like to see it, too.

The second affirmation I got indirectly through mama, but it comes from dad. I'd gone up even though I was pretty worn out Friday to support him; he's in a burn-it-all-down temper, frustrated by grandmother being a doofy brat about things of late, but at the same time he loves his people, heart despite will. Talking to mama on the phone, said that I hoped my presence had given him more ability to go & take breaks when he'd needed to - he split out pretty early Sunday afternoon, five or so hours before he'd meant to, I think it all got to be too much. & mama said that I'd helped more than that, that he'd said to her that it was a balm to him to watch my interest and delight in the weird old stuff that his life had been made of, that I was far enough distant from it that I didn't have to be insistently aware of how miserable and screwed-up parts of that hippie bohemian scene had actually been & so could remind him of how authentically excellent other parts were.

(They really were wild, those people. The more I go poking around in their history the more - amazed? - I am. Amazed that any of the kids survived to adulthood, lol, and that they didn't all burn their brains out with hallucinogens, spirit channelling, and Brechtianism. Not that some of them didn't; I turned up a story this time around about the girl who slid into schizophrenia via a ouija board - occasioned by us finding the board that grandfather used to use to predict the Kentucky Derby - and a passel of intensely manic and nonlinear letters sent by another schizophrenic acquaintance. Daddy would say that his mother was ones of the ones lost to booze tho she's living yet; I've been starting to see that for him his family fell apart & ended a long time ago, around when they moved to that grand old house, when the second round of kids was born and they partying started to get hardcore. He told me over the phone last week that he wished I could have met his mama back before that, the way she used to be. I think he's been missing that lost mother for kind of a long time. Would explain his impatience and sometime-animosity toward her now; I think her existential laziness at present both drives him up a wall and breaks his heart.)
lotesse: (joss)
Well, spring break hasn't been much of one, yet, but then again it's just been the weekend so far, and I drove up to Michigan City Friday to help my dad and aunt and uncle disassemble the heart of the realm, my grandparents' grand old lakeshore house: it's going on the market, and some of those drawers hadn't been touched since the 60s. Found some fabulous old stuff, opened a lot of dear memories - good, but still pretty intense. It's the end of an era, the turning of a page. Grandmother seems well in her new digs at the retirement home, & was able to take her old dog there with her, so that's good. And my insurance adjuster thinks the report of my car accident last month is in error, and that I was not at fault, that I was going straight through a green light when the truck hit me; hopefully I'll be able to get the necessary emendations on the police report and recoup some money, but just knowing that I didn't screw up is really nice. I'm working on self-forgiveness, but it's still a lot easier to be let off the hook.

Watching The X-Files for feels, Shameless for family-related processing. Last week I was whinging to my therapist about having to deal with the police in re: the accident report, and she asked me why it was a problem for me. I told her that cops were for running from, not talking to - and after a weekend going through family history I can fully grok where I came by that impression.
lotesse: (narnia)
There is a way, now, more than ten years out from it all, that I'm beginning to see the Lord of the Rings movies as a deep and appalling travesty, misrepresentation and missed chance - or, worse, maybe not so much that last thing. But the chances they took weren't the ones I would have wished them to, not in the service of fidelity to the ethos of the source text and not in the service of bending the long arc of the universe toward justice.

In 2001, with the United States coopting Tolkien's rhetoric of dark and light and moral war to justify casually stupid militarism - at the start of what is now the longest war the United States has ever fought, one of the longest wars of the modern era - they took Tolkien's peacenik epic and retold it to emphasize and valorize violence. And admittedly Peej isn't American, but a lot of the project, including a lot of the money, came from either the US or Great Britain, who were allied with the US at the time in the famous "Coalition of the Willing." So I'm not sure the films' Kiwitude can excuse them from this one.

They "empowered" characters by giving them more violence to do, as in the case of Arwen. They recut and rebalanced Tolkien's multiple interwoven narratives to give more heft to Aragorn's military prowess and to minimize the intensity of Frodo's long slow sad story of grinding pain and unendurable pressure, endurance beyond hope. They erased both the story of the scouring of the Shire, which brings home the aftermath of war and shows its price on a more intimate scale, and the story of Frodo's shellshock, which he never really recovers from - the price on the internal scale, the price to the soul. They bring war back home with them. Merry argues for its necessity; Frodo stays "shocked and sad."


‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.


Sam But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo ... and it's worth fighting for.

... I'm not at all sure that those two passages are from the same story. Not deep down where it counts. For one thing the relationship between the characters totally reverses, from Tolkien's naive Sam who hopes beyond reason and worldweary Frodo who always knew just how much he was losing to Jackson's butch assertive Sam and passive unthinking blank slate Frodo, who is merciful to Gollum because Gandalf told him to be more than out of any considered personal conviction. But also - there's a difference between book!Frodo's "give them up" and movie!Sam's "worth fighting for," although battle is certainly one of Tolkien's recognized modes of self-sacrifice. But the one emphasizes the omnipresence of the cost of war while the other doesn't mention it - apparently once you figure out that there's "some good in this world" you become the equal to any task, no matter how impossible, and of course as the films demonstrate the wages of fighting is glory: the only one who visibly pays is Frodo, and even in his case going to the Grey Havens seems kind of like a trip to Disneyland. Eowyn's choice to ride to battle loses a lot of its unhealthy/suicidal undertones, and her choice to turn away from violence in the Houses of the Healing is omitted. Both Merry's and Pippin's battle traumas are skimmed over; the psychological aspects of Merry's hurt after the Pelennor is disappeared altogether. Back in the Shire, before he sails, Frodo seems physically pained rather than shellshocked; and I'm using that word rather than PTSD for a reason, because Middle Earth came into being while Tolkien was resting in a field hospital after the Battle of the Somme and is fundamentally bound to World War I because of it.

And just as I am filled with rage and bitterness that Dubya is in art galleries rather than in chains at his own trial in the Hague, so too I find myself unwilling to happily accept the place that the Lord of the Rings has come to inhabit in sff pop culture since the films came out: elegant but somehow George-Lucas-esque pieces, real pretty and with some totally cool bits, some strong female characters and some stirring speeches about hope and change, and underneath it all an incoherent attraction to violence, callousness, hierarchy. A New Hope ends with that bizarre visual Nazi reference, The Return of the King with some pretty frank and unreconstructed monarchalism. Not to mention the pervasive racism of the orcs, the nastiness of the Haradrim, the general failure to imagine a diverse world. That last is, yes, also a failing of Tolkien's, and certainly you can find nastinesses he's said, but the business with the orcs at least isn't a failing of the text's.
lotesse: (holmes_h/w)
jeeeesus I do not recommend trying to pay for a move and a car and a traffic collision and new glasses in the same month. just about hyperventilated a moment there as I was doing my math up; I think I'm going to just squeak by until I get paid on Friday - but only just, and only because I'm paying my ridonk power bill for last month in installments. I'm trying to convince myself that it'll be okay, I haven't failed in managing my money I've just had kind of a clusterfuck the last month & there have been lots of unforseen and major expenses. I've got a couple hundred bucks' worth of writing lined up for the next week, & really if I didn't get paid monthly I wouldn't be in nearly as much of a pinch - but oh how I loathe the feeling, even the essentially false feeling, of financial insecurity.
lotesse: (Default)
Rargh fml. The wee pocket-sized house I had pretty much decided to rent if possible didn't pass the sniff test in terms of not being a total fucking scamjob actually being lived in by someone else. Nevermind. Checking out three new prospects tomorrow. Moving Day is next Sunday. and Unspecified Things have apparently gone wrong with the plan to move my grandmother out of her house and into care; I got nothin, but I'm sure I'll get an earfull over the next week. Sounds like another Daddy+Mama v. auntie match, joy.

take it away, Avenue Q:
lotesse: a still from Peter Jackson's "Forgotten Silver" (glamazon)
Inspired by Miley Cyrus, I am considering bleaching my leg hair. Because I hate shaving, and have kind of a lot of very light peach fuzz on the rest of my body, but darker hair on my legs, and if it was all light-colored fuzz I think I could go unshaven without any selfconsciousness at all.
lotesse: (merlin_morgana)
Thanks for all the supportive comments over the last coupla weeks, y'all; you guys make such a big difference in my life. Nothing better than falling into media fandom has, like, ever happened to me. I'm doing okay. Feeling grouchy, which is prolly a good sign. I still got to get myself a new apartment this next week, and then I can get back to stressing about academic ish full-time!!! Naw, don't listen to me.

Man, I don't know why I don't just watch Shameless all the cotdamn time. Because it is my kind of shit. It is so good to see representations of being poor. I'm not Gallagher-type poor, tho I come from Chicago-poor stock - but my people are hippieshit backwoods artsy types for the most part, conjobbery on the side not front and center. But I am having so many feelings about Lip and college and how fucking bullshit it is that the American educational system is clogged with all this suburban whitebread babysitting timewasting felgercarb. The question isn't "how will we use this in the real world," it's "is the purpose of this lesson to efficiently inform us or help us acquire a skill, or is it just another hoop to jump through, another way to waste our time?"

I am NEVER going to say that learning is pointless, or even a bad idea, because I am SO DOWN with knowledge for knowledge's sake - but at the same time, how the fuck much time and money can you ethically mandate kids need to spend faffing around on distribution requirements when some people legit need to be living their lives at the same time? The pursuit of a well-rounded education ought to be a joyful supplement to a working life. I want both at once, jam and bread all together - anyway, why is it such a big thing to expect, to be able to have a home and a family and a work and learning too? I empathize a lot with Lip's emotional tension, his irritation at ritualized college social scenes combined with the intense affective pull of his family. I feel that now; I'm sick of living away from my people. And it was weird for me too back as an undergraduate, because I was also essentially a new wife at nineteen/twenty, keeping my first house, and that put me out of step with the private liberal arts college scene. But lots of the girls I grew up with were getting married and having first babies at that point in their lives.

Iiiiii need to get more freelance writing assignments and get paid, y'all.

eta: and anyway what's up with notjob disciplinarians who teach Foucault? do they not cognitive dissonance?
lotesse: (Default)
Crashed my car last night. Police report said I was turning left and failed to yield; fair enough, as I can't remember ANYTHING, not the accident, not the aftermath, not none of it. Somehow I ended up in a hospital, very confused, trying to remember phone numbers. I finally managed to get mama, I guess.

Car's totaled, glasses broken. Dad's coming down to help, but I'm maybe more afraid of that than anything else. I feel like such a hopeless fuckup.

daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin


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