Migration Patterns
Nov. 16th, 2006 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowYeah, I've just run out of subject lines. I'm one of those people who uniformly leaves out the subject line on e-mails because it annoys me to summarize. Makes me think of The Princess Bride : "Let me explain. No, too long. Let me sum up."
Allergies have receded, thank God. Now I'm itchy, but no longer itchy AND snotty. Trust me, it makes a difference.
I also have blue suede shoes courtesy of $10 and Payless, this is after signing my life away to the DMV who insist that I pay my parking tickets when I register my car. I told my mother this on the phone while trolling through Target and she sighed. "That's your personal rebellion isn't it?" I thought about this, "Yeah, but I'm still getting fucked by the man!" She was not unsympathetic, but much like when I threatened to not pay my taxes, is equally aware that the rebellion hurts me more than it hurts them. In fact, they'd prefer that I rebel. They make more money that way.
I'm in the midst of my re-read of Pamela Dean's Tam Lin and enjoying it much more thoroughly than I did when I read it pre-college, in part because it takes place at a version of Carleton and my own college is pretty much Carleton's urban, industrious twin (and thank god because I'd have gone nuts in Northfield!). The things about Dean's writing that annoy me get lost in the sort of giddy nostalgia that accompanies memories of college, of going to that kind of college and having that kind of experience.
It does make me wonder what it is about Classicists that make people think they could be up to drugged and nefarious deeds. (Not to say we weren't, although very few of those deeds were harmful to anyone other than ourselves, but with Tam Lin and The Secret History coming out within a few years of each other, you'd think there'd have been a run on Classics majors. Come to think of it, my class graduated an absurd amount of them. I suppose it's the whole esotericness of the pursuit, and the fact that you've gotta be a little bit whacked out to study Greek and Latin and philosophy and archaeology. You've gotta laugh at fart jokes and enourmous penises and men in women's clothing (and dude, it's no wonder I loved Farscape so very, very much) and still take seriously the postulates and mythology and sarcasm and idealism and rampant raging sexism and the fact that most of the scholars did a lot of illicit substances and had a lot of good natured sex and weren't always so great with practical skills. And besides, the English majors were so godawful pretentious and stuffy (and I say this as an English major as well, but I never HUNG out with them).
I am enjoying the meme of discussing fandoms like they were friends or lovers, but honestly, it hits a little too close to home for me when I'm wondering if I have an unhealthy relationship with media anyway. Which is to say, I'm happy to read them and guess, but rather unwilling to spill my own neurosis out in making anyone guess my responses. Besides, I'm too literal at times to stretch the metaphor that far.
Allergies have receded, thank God. Now I'm itchy, but no longer itchy AND snotty. Trust me, it makes a difference.
I also have blue suede shoes courtesy of $10 and Payless, this is after signing my life away to the DMV who insist that I pay my parking tickets when I register my car. I told my mother this on the phone while trolling through Target and she sighed. "That's your personal rebellion isn't it?" I thought about this, "Yeah, but I'm still getting fucked by the man!" She was not unsympathetic, but much like when I threatened to not pay my taxes, is equally aware that the rebellion hurts me more than it hurts them. In fact, they'd prefer that I rebel. They make more money that way.
I'm in the midst of my re-read of Pamela Dean's Tam Lin and enjoying it much more thoroughly than I did when I read it pre-college, in part because it takes place at a version of Carleton and my own college is pretty much Carleton's urban, industrious twin (and thank god because I'd have gone nuts in Northfield!). The things about Dean's writing that annoy me get lost in the sort of giddy nostalgia that accompanies memories of college, of going to that kind of college and having that kind of experience.
It does make me wonder what it is about Classicists that make people think they could be up to drugged and nefarious deeds. (Not to say we weren't, although very few of those deeds were harmful to anyone other than ourselves, but with Tam Lin and The Secret History coming out within a few years of each other, you'd think there'd have been a run on Classics majors. Come to think of it, my class graduated an absurd amount of them. I suppose it's the whole esotericness of the pursuit, and the fact that you've gotta be a little bit whacked out to study Greek and Latin and philosophy and archaeology. You've gotta laugh at fart jokes and enourmous penises and men in women's clothing (and dude, it's no wonder I loved Farscape so very, very much) and still take seriously the postulates and mythology and sarcasm and idealism and rampant raging sexism and the fact that most of the scholars did a lot of illicit substances and had a lot of good natured sex and weren't always so great with practical skills. And besides, the English majors were so godawful pretentious and stuffy (and I say this as an English major as well, but I never HUNG out with them).
I am enjoying the meme of discussing fandoms like they were friends or lovers, but honestly, it hits a little too close to home for me when I'm wondering if I have an unhealthy relationship with media anyway. Which is to say, I'm happy to read them and guess, but rather unwilling to spill my own neurosis out in making anyone guess my responses. Besides, I'm too literal at times to stretch the metaphor that far.
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HEY!
Date: 2006-11-17 04:41 am (UTC)Re: HEY!
Date: 2006-11-17 06:26 pm (UTC)Re: HEY!
Date: 2006-11-17 06:32 pm (UTC)