My boyfriend, drunk on the evening before his qualifying exam, is holding forth to a group of four people about the furniture and boats he has designed and built.
μεν, I am proud of him and think that he's built some really awesome stuff.
δε, it's the silliest conversation in the world.
This morning I somehow woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I think it has to do with stress -- I just felt so hopeless, like I will never complete all the things I need to, no matter how hard I work. Which is, unfortunately, basically true: right now I am trading off writing this entry with studying for my Latin vocab quiz, and that means... well, anyway.
My heart hurts in that "anxiety-attack-coming-on" way and I don't know why. Maybe it's hormonal.
On the plus side, I got contacted by a couple places I've applied for summer internships at. We're setting up interviews, and I have a good deal of hope. Excellent!
...okay, I do know why I feel so anxious. I'm deathly scared of what I'm going to do after college. I need to take the GRE, for starters, because all of a sudden I'm looking at Media Studies programs. But if I go to a Media Studies program right out of college, I have to leave this niche I've carved for myself in Portland behind. I don't want to do that; I don't like change and I just got comfortable here. I'd have to take more debt load on -- but then, I'd be doing something really exciting, something that makes me thrilled to just think about it. But I'd also not be following my bliss of writing: grad school makes me think that I'm giving up that ideal. And what if Media Studies doesn't explode in the way I've imagined it will? Then I have an MA or a PhD that won't help me with anything. I'm qualified to talk about the Internet. Yaaaay.
I think I just need to swallow my fears, sign up for a GRE prep course, and do my homework. That's the simple solution to all my problems. If only it were actually that easy to calm down.
guess what the next disney princess's name is going to be?
that's right. MADDY.
also, she's going to be black, which is doubly awesome. so i'm obvs going to be first in line for this movie.
For the occasion, I bring to you the best Irish song I know: "Finnegan's Wake." This version is sung by the Dropkick Murphys.
It seems like about once a year I post about how much I love The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien said he was out to create a mythology for England -- and so he has; he has created a world which is utterly inspiring.
I've been rereading it over break. If you have never read it -- run, don't walk, get a copy. And I don't feel bad for quoting this:
The slow voices of the Riders stirred the hearts even of those who did not know the speech of that people; but the words of the song brought a light to the eyes of the folk of the Mark as they heard again afar the thunder of the hooves of the North and the voice of Eorl crying above the battle on the Field of Celebrant; and the tale of the kings rolled on, and the horn of Helm was loud in the mountains, until the Darkness came and King Théoden arose and rode through the Shadow to the fire, and died in splendour, even as the Sun, returning beyond hope, gleamed upon Mindolluin in the morning.
Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising
he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;
over death, over dread, over doom lifted
out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.But Merry stood at the foot of the green mound, and he wept, and when the song was ended he arose and cried: 'Théoden King, Théoden King! Farewell! As a father you were to me, for a little while. Farewell!'
I sometimes think that The Lord of the Rings is the only thing that keeps me from being a total cynic and feeling like the world is complete shit. Because real life is complicated, and mixed-up, and difficult. And it is sometimes in Middle-Earth too: think of the hill-men who are conquered, but were not evil, only deceived. And think of Gollum-Sméagol. And think of Boromir, whose mistake was the mistake we all make -- of being human; and Denethor, whose madness sprung from his love for his sons. And of Isildur, whose pride was the beginning of the second War of the Ring. And even in the end of Frodo who was almost corrupted. But those things -- we get to look at those things from above, as things-having-happened. In the immediate the world is so much different. But in order to not lose hope, we have to pretend that it isn't.
Maybe I'm babbling -- oh well. I cry every time I read Théoden's death and funeral, anyway.
I've been thinking really hard about joining a boxing gym or dojo...
I've been doing well with exercising this semester, but I still feel like I don't have any kind of goal. One of the things I liked best about kenpo, when I was doing it, was that there was always a goal. Always another belt, or a competition, or a demonstration which I had to work towards. Always another kick that I wanted to do. Another few degrees I wanted to be able to spin around (yes, we had a running competition for who could spin around the most times in the air, jumping from a standing position). That isn't around anymore. It seems kind of silly for me to set "I want to run a mile X quickly" goals. I can't see when I will ever use that, except possibly as bragging rights -- and I'm not good enough for that anyway. (I don't want to think about running a mile in X minutes unless I'm under 7:30, and right now I'm hovering around 8:30, so.)
The main problem, of course, is money and time. Money, because any group I want to join will cost at least $110 a month, and that's if I sign a year-long contract and swallow the fact that I won't be going to a place that focuses on forms, which were always my favorite part of kenpo. Of course, that gym does offer muay thai, which I am pretty much desperate to learn.
Time, because the places Tim was looking at are at least a bus ride away, maybe a bike or run if I wanted to get into the cross training thing (and I don't own a working bike so that's another couple hundred up front, besides the other cost). And I wouldn't want to start doing martial arts again unless I was going to do Martial Arts with the goddamn capitalization: I want to feel like a real black belt again, not feel too ashamed of not having practiced in years to admit to it.
I don't know. I told Tim that I'd probably sign up after college is over, but that's a year and a half away, and I've been feeling this itch for some time. I can't afford it -- I really can't afford it. Well, I can. If I keep up my work schedule and accept the fact that I'll have almost no spending money. But then I won't have time to go to the gym that I have had to work so hard to afford.
I guess next year I'm just going to try doing aikido and tai chi through the college to tide me over. Tai chi makes me itchy (I want to actually punch something, not just wave my hands around in the air, for serious) and I have a feeling that aikido will too (again: I like boxing, kenpo, and weaponry, things where you basically bludgeon the shit out of whatever is coming up against you -- not things where you have to be too finessed) but it'll be better than nothing.
Any suggestions? Anyone in Portland go to a boxing gym or dojo that they can recommend?
I like to think of myself as a forgiving person. I read romance novels, okay? I read romance novels, and I like them, even Harlequins with titles like Royally Bedded, Royally Wedded that in pretty much any other situation would make me throw up in my mouth a little. Or a lot. And despite the fact that I'm proud to call myself a feminist, I am 100% okay with indulging in a little bit of swept-off-your-feet, taken-care-of-by-strong-caveman-like-hero goodness.
But for God's sake: enough with the Orientalizing, exoticizing bullshit. I do not want to hear about how the hero is oh-so-sexy and "mystical" because of his "rumored Native American blood." I do not want to read about the fainting English flower being held captive by the sheikh. Hell, I don't even want to hear about the Sicilian billionaire and his "hot Mediterranean blood."
Just stop it! It isn't sexy! It isn't exotic! It's just irritating, especially when the author so clearly hasn't even bothered to Wikipedia the country or culture from which the hero has supposedly come.
Sometimes I can't believe that I spend my hard-earned money on this crap. Fortunately, only sometimes. But when they're bad... they're very, very bad.
Ahhhh, spring break! How I have longed for you!
In reality I'm going to spend most of my break working. I need to get started on my bibliographic essay for Religion 399 -- it's about Second Life, at least, so it should be fun to research. But I also want to get a bit ahead in the translations for Latin, re-read the last fifty pages of Ricoeur, and hopefully also write my next Women in the Ancient World paper. (Ellen liked my last one, but she said it felt incomplete, as if I could have gone twice as long. Which was perceptive, because at a certain point I just threw up my hands and said, "I have the word count! It's not crap! I'm turning it in, damn it!" rather than continuing to work on it forever).
But, so far it's been nice, and today I've given myself the day off. Last night Charlie and Devin's Inauguration Ball (what I saw of it) was fun: lots of happy people dancing around in the S.U., lots of good friends to hang out with. This morning Nick headed off to Moab, where he'll be mountain biking with some friends all break long -- which means I'm less distracted, which is probably good. Tonight I'll either go to the Peanut Gallery's "Black, White, and Red" party, or I'll babysit for Kyriell -- and then of course the annual Boondock Saints Patrick's Day Party is coming next weekend.
Speaking of which, if you have any Irish music to suggest to me, I'd adore it. So far I have Flogging Molly, the Dropkick Murphys, The Pogues, The Dubliners, Altan, and the Chieftains, but I'm definitely on the lookout for more.
Did you order Girl Scout cookies this year? What kind?
Samoas, samoas, samoas! They're the best sort.
Incidentally, Girl Scout cookies were what broke my dollar-a-day resolve. Or rather:
1. When I was eating a dollar a day very strictly, I got almost no sugar whatsoever except whatever I could find on the scrounge.
2. My roommates bought a lot of Girl Scout cookies. I needed those things like I have never needed anything before. Now I know what a REAL sugar craving feels like.
3. It occurred to me that, if I make a $100 donation to the Village Enterprise Fund (which is where I decided my $$ would go) then I could feel morally okay -- if a little defeated -- about not being hardcore about a dollar a day. I would rather spend what little money is left in my bank account on, you know, fruits and veggies and Girl Scout cookies.
So that's what I did, and I think I might start tithing some of my income each month to VEF. My roommate's father is in charge of it, so I know enough about their operation that I feel really good about giving them money. I won't be able to afford $100 every month, but $20 is do-able, and it really did feel awesome to be able to cut that check. I hope that I can sit down with Tim's dad sometime and talk about what they're doing there, get a real first-hand impression.
I'm still not sure what I think of the racial and socioeconomic implications of charity to Africa, but I do know that it's a definite moral BAD to ignore the situation there, so I'm going to stick with that assessment and worry about the rest later.
