the voices dying with a dying fall

Song of the hour: Closing down my house by Will Johnson

My work is done.
I don’t know how I did it exactly, but it’s done. All the papers. All the reading. All the scrambling. The last week is a bit of a blur, but I have about 40 pages of written essays to show for it, and few more wrinkles about the eyes. It’s now Check For Grades Obsessively Time, which is going ok so far with an A posted for 20th century American Lit. Slightly surprising since I got a B on the midterm. I can only assume that my paper on black masculinity in Beloved was pleasing to my prof. and weighted heavily.

Brian reminded me last night of the moment 4 1/2 years ago in cup a joe when I was looking through the want ads, bitching about how I was never going to get a decent job, when I said "Fuck it, I’m going back to college"  and despite my extreme aversion to paperwork I found myself in English 101 exactly 2 weeks later. 
Four and a half years.
Is that a long time? It certainly feels like a long time. An eternity, really.  In that time I’ve been to two weddings; made 5 friends I’ll be keeping and lost 2 others; raised my GPA from 2.25 to 3.7something; Joss has gone from kindergarten to 4th grade; I’ve read 28 textbooks 40 novels 17 plays and have written more papers than I could possibly count; I have given exactly 4 oral reports and escaped 6 others; have driven over 20,000 miles commuting; cut open 2 fetal pigs and an octopus; became an atheist, a nihilist, and settled for some abstract existentialism; and I have to say, I have learned a whole hell of a lot.

I want to write more, but I really need to go buy that cap and gown and stuff.
I’ll write again when it’s official.

love.

If anyone is interested, my graduation ceremony will be held at The Dean Smith Center at 2:00 on Sunday, December 16th.
Since
it’s a mid-year graduation, there’s plenty of space and there’s no need
for tickets. It’s an hour long speech and then some standing or
something, so really, I don’t even want to sit through it– but I’m
going to. It certainly isn’t anything I’d inflict on my friends, unless
they have a deep down love of The Dull or have masochistic tendencies.
My main focus is to show Joss how much fun it is to graduate from college:
"See? Mommy’s wearing a funny hat!"

But Andy guilted me into mentioning it, so there. It is mentioned.

I have 7 more nightmarish days in front of me. Tuesday, I have both of my English exams– at 8 am and at noon. 8 am people. For a 3 hour Shakespeare essay. Followed by 3 hours of Pynchon & Beloved and post-modernism, which I still can’t define.

eh. I have 30 more pages to write.
much love…

(please deposit your explanations of Post-Modernism in the comments. Thank you.) 

Songs of the hour: Bullet by Hayden; Portastatic; Summer Hymns.

Other Things I Should Be Doing Right Now:
1. Finishing the last 50 pages of Beloved.
2. Finishing the last 4 acts of Othello.
3.
Reading recent publications for my independent psych research project
(I’ve decided on the of the role of gratitude and guilt in religion)
for my paper– which is also the only component of my grade.
4. Writing a paper on either "love/gender roles as defined by Much Ado About Nothing and Othello" or "divine intervention in Othello".
5. Writing a paper on either "Modernism portrayed through Prufrock" or structure in Frost’s "Design". (masculinity in Beloved)
6.
Catching up on half a semester’s worth of reading for Cultural Studies,
which includes such exciting topics as "Intensities of Feeling Towards
a Spatial Politics of Affect".
7. Starting my cultural studies semester project; in which I’m focusing on Patriotism in Advertising.
8. Studying for finals, which start next week.

That list was more for me than you.
Also,
I need to figure out this cap and gown business, because, well, I
graduate in less than 3 weeks. 3 weeks. 3 weeks and I finally get to
stroll out of the ivory tower and stretch my legs a bit. Wander through
the garden of reality and real work, and then amble back in when I’ve
picked a bright enough bouquet and stay there for 5 more years. I’m
getting a corner office next time… or whatever passes for a corner in
a tower.

It’s hard for me to picture a school-less life. No
constant GPA calculations running in the back of my head. No 85 lb
bookbag with me everywhere I go– finally laying down the hardback
Complete Works of Shakespeare whose shape is impressed into my back. No
more nightmares about the zillion pdf’s slipping unstapled and mingling
out of order in my purse (so so sad). No more all-nighters tracing bird
or bee imagery through the works of whoever or comparing criticisms of
criticisms of criticisms of Marx to Adam Smith. No more a lot of things.
Instead,
I get to cook Joss dinner every night. I get to complain about
irritating co-workers. I (hopefully please) get a paycheck. I get time
to Call You Back. I get to read what I want to read. And, near the top
of my list of importance, I get to sleep.
Oh, sacred Sleep, I will build you a shrine of feathery down and
dreamcatchers, write you hymnal lullabies and love sonnets of how my
heart has grown fonder in your absence.

Granted, there will be
much moaning and bitching in regards to job applications and grad
school applications and where am I going to get a recommendation and
the nightmare of "that’s my GRE score?!!" but at least I will be well-rested.
I
acknowledge the risk of becoming listless and depressed in that
post-college habit of losing the structure and constant near-panic of
deadlines, but if I do I’ll muddle through somehow. If all goes well
I’ll have a nice challenging research assistant position to keep me on
my psychological toes and I’ll keep learning in a way that’ll keep my
gnawing mind satisfied.

But I have to get there first. I have 15
more days under the cognitive tyranny of UNC to swim through. If I get
straight A’s this semester, which is highly unlikely, I’ll walk out
with the 3.75 GPA to which I’ve sacrificed all that sacred sleep. If
not, I’ll muster together what I can and try to arrange it neatly on a
porcelain plate instead for the consumption of various grad school
admissions boards. Maybe a twig of mint or parsley will make the
difference.

Anyway, I should tackle something on that list now.
I won’t be a pleasant person for the next couple weeks; I apologize in
advance. Try to bear with me. It’ll be over soon….

love.

So I’ve spent like the last hour on the same web page–
Final Meal Requests
of death row inmates. I have this weird urge to study correlations
between types of crimes and types of meals… it’s mostly
Cheeseburgers, Fried Chicken, Steak, and french fries– lots of ice
cream. Murder, rape, robbery…
You can click on the profile to see a photo and their crimes, if you happen to find their last meal particularly interesting.

isn’t it just fucking weird? That I can do this on Wednesday morning? I can look at the profiles and last meals of executed criminals?
I’m having a moment– a wtf are we doing here surreality nothing makes
sense what a piece of work is man how can everyone be so fucked up and
not even know it catch 22 type of moment.

a lot of the guys were 17 when they committed the crime.
some didn’t finish middle school.

Chef soup with crackers, chili with beans,
steamed rice, seasoned pinto beans, corn, seasoned mustard greens, hot
spiced beets, and iced tea killed a cop raped a 3 year old girl looks a lot like patrick warburton, died 23 years ago.

Twelve beef ribs, three enchiladas, chicken
fried steak with cream gravy, crisp bacon sandwich, ketchup, a loaf of
bread, cobbler, three Cokes, three root beer, French fries, and onion
rings former cop/security guard kidnapped and (allegedly) killed a 12
year old boy for ransom money to bail himself out of financial trouble
after luring his friends the boys parents away to an Amway meeting,
executed 3 years ago.

1 bag of assorted Jolly Ranchers at 17 killed two men over a drug deal, executed 6 years ago.

Cool Whip and cherries shot a 5 year old girl and wounded the parents, executed 4 years ago.

Eucharist/Sacrament shot two girls in their twenties; was employed with Central Texas Crime Prevention at time of the murders.

Six pieces of french toast with
syrup,
jelly, butter, six barbecued spare ribs, six pieces of well burned
bacon, four scrambled eggs, five well cooked sausage patties, french
fries with ketchup, three slices of cheese, two pieces of yellow cake
with chocolate fudge icing, and four cartons of milk attacked and
robbed a married couple, shot the husband (24), raped the wife and then
shot her in the head but she survived to testify having lost an eye and
suffering brain damage..

T-bone steak (med. to well done), french
fries and ketchup, whole kernel corn, sweet peas, lettuce and tomato
salad with egg and french dressing, iced tea, sweetener, saltines,
Boston cream pie, and rolls poisoned his own son’s halloween candy.

you get the idea.

I’m both hungry and nauseated.

I have too much to ramble about this insanity, and a paper to write.
Is it just me? Isn’t this incredibly fucked up?

ugh.

Well, Cangrejero threw down another gauntlet… so here it is. Thanks for giving me a reason to take a break! Come on guys, you know this works. Get hoppin’!

Shuffle game rules:

1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to each question.
4. Cheating optional

1.) Describe your first date.

Shuffle Says: "Girl About Town" by Helen Love

er,
um, wow. Ok. Actually, I went to the ice house with Chad, who brought
his best friend along, and ignored me the whole time, and was flat out
mean to me the second his mom dropped us off. But even then at the
tender age of 12, I was already a fallen rock star sleeping under bars.
Rock on.

2.) What is your personal religion?
Shuffle Says: "Now That I Know" by Devendra Banhart

You’re a genius, shuffle, a genius.

3.) What do you think of your current hometown?
Shuffle Says: "Paint’s Peeling" by Rilo kiley

Yes, it is feeling a little dilapidated… perhaps time to shift along a little bit.

4.) What do you feel guilty about?
Shuffle Says: "We Both Go Down Together" by The Decemberists

Lots of ways to take that one, take it as you will. Also, "Everything" would have been an approriate answer.

5.) What embarrasses you?
Shuffle Says: "Bad Things to Such Good People" by Pedro the Lion

Yes, I feel embarrassed for the universe, because that too is my fault.
I’m
also a black sheep in the fam, being an athiest single mom and all, so
this definitely works. could not fly straight to save my life…

6.) What kind of restaurant would you open?
Shuffle Says: "I Can’t Move" by Everlast

Absolutely.
I would build the slowest drive-through in the history of man, complete
with guard rails to keep you from escaping. Teach the lazy bastards to
walk inside. Wait, I’m one of those lazy bastards.

7.) How do you feel about fall?
Shuffle Says: "Work Hard/Play Hard" by Palace

Highly
appropriate for my last semseter. I love autumn– pretty leaves, strong
breezes… wait, it’s 85 degrees outside. Nevermind.

8.) What’s your greatest fear?
Shuffle Says: "The Bones of an Idol" by The New Pornograhers

nice.

9.) What’s your biggest weakness?
Shuffle Says: "As You Are Right" by Geoff Farina

Yes, it’s whatever you say it is. Feel free to vote for vices in the comments. Also, cowardice.

10.) What was the last lie you told?
Shuffle Says: "Our Lady of Solitude" by Leonard Cohen

I
have zero ideas about this one.Actually, I believe the last lie I told
was "No, I’m not mad." Or maybe it was telling Joss he could have a
pony. I can’t remember.

11.) What’s the biggest thing you learned in school?
Shuffle Says: "Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight that Surrounds You" by Rilo Kiley

I
would take this to mean a delicate blend of physics and
transcendentalism. I would have said something about hoaxy religions or
the power of metaphor, but whatever, what do I know.

12.) What did you dream your life would be like as a child?
Shuffle Says: "No Joy in Mudville" by Death Cab for Cutie

lol.
Well, I think my dreams evolved from housewife, to fashion designer, to
theoretical physicist, to photojournalist for national geographic, to
novelist. But never did any of these plans involve staying in NC. So
yeah, this works.

13.) What was your first serious girlfriend/boyfriend like?
Shuffle Says: "Hope" by Dirty Three

You
know, I always think fondly of my first boyfriend. He was a friend of
my brothers, and he was the first person to ever treat me like I was
smart. He inspired me to think about more complicated issues and he
always treated me well. But looking back, he was 19 and I was 13, and
really, that’s a little bit creepy. But given that this song is
instrumental, secretly, shuffle is just keeping it’s mouth shut.

14.) What were you doing 10 years ago?
Shuffle Says: "Poppies" by Marcy Playground

Wow.
more like 11 years ago, but damn, that hits the mark.10 years ago I was
in a sleep deprived haze with a newborn. where has the time gone?

15.) What will you be doing in 10 years?
Shuffle Says: "No More Colleges" by Nathan Asher and the Infantry

Knock on wood. No, really. Do it.

16.) What does a cry for help from you sound like?
Shuffle Says: "Hell No, I Ain’t Happy" by Drive-by Truckers

Well, I try to be a simple kind of girl.

17.) What do you buy at Wal-Mart?
Shuffle Says: "Side by Side" by Grant Lee Buffalo

What
is that, a lunchable? A jumper for Siamese twins? PBJ? Then again, the
songs about haves and have-nots, so, it works in an abstract way.

18.) Describe your personal political philosophy
Shuffle Says: "Left Me for Dead" by Rob Dougan

perhaps "lefty or die"?

19.) Do You like to travel?
Shuffle Says: "Bird Stealing Bread" by Iron & Wine

"I’ve not seen you lately
on the street by the beach
or places we used to go"

yeah, I love to travel.

20.) How do you feel about your coworkers?
Shuffle Says: "Unwell" by Matchbox 20

I’m
not sure which is funnier, that they think I’m crazy, or that I think
they’re crazy? Either way, it’s awesome because the closest thing I
have to a job is working in a psych lab.

Post away, kiddies. I want to see your lists!

Songs of the Hour: Trees Lounge by Hayden; Nick Drake, White Sulfur

First of all, I’m sorry I’ve been so incommunicado.
I’ve
gotten a few messages/emails in the last week or two to which I haven’t
gotten a chance to respond, or haven’t been in the right mindset to
respond properly. I did find myself watching two documentaries– Guys and Dolls, about 4 men and their relationships to their Real Dolls; and the Half-Ton Man, which is self explanatory.
I
generally don’t watch a lot of films during the semester, having a
zillion other things to do, unless it’s something I’m doing with Joss.
But I stumbled on these online, and my morbid curiosity compelled me
(like the power of christ, but different). Ethnographies of sorts for
the most part, they emphasize certain human behaviors and psychological
processes one might not ordinarily have opportunity to examine so
closely… But on a human level, it’s really sad. Which leaves me all
ruminatory and  thoughtful and socially withdrawn until I can adapt
to/internalize the perspectives and paradigms to which I’ve been
exposed.
I think I’m over it now… but I recommend them both, and
the links above go to the full film if you have the time/interest.
They’re about 45 minutes each.

School is steady as she goes.
It’s midterm time, and I completely blanked out on my Shakespeare test,
but hopefully rambled enough to get a passing number of points (which
of course means at least a B). Secretly, I’m loving the class. I wrote
a paper on "Wombs as Tombs" imagery in Romeo and Juliet, focusing on
the foreshadowing language for how they die… I really do love this
Literature business.  I envy you guys with the stomach for academia,
well, with the balls to teach, at least. I’d be far happier if I had
your courage. I’d be content to extol on the beauty of lit to apathetic
young minds for a living if I could only stand to address more than 3
people at any given time. So carry on, my loves, and let me live
vicariously through you.

When Joss started back to school 2
weeks ago, I made a dry erase chart of the things he needs to do each
night in an effort to help him organize his apparently overwhelming
amount of tasks. His teacher and school counselor recommended it, and I
thought why the hell not?  The first week, my little monkey transformed
into a complete angel. He knew there was some money/boons on the line,
and he made the unfortunate mistake of demonstrating what he was
capable of when he set his mind to it.  He said it was really hard, but
his teacher sent home a note saying he  was focusing in class, and for
the first time ever, consistently finishing his classwork. This last
week was a disaster. Well, he started coming around on Thursday, and
did ok on Friday, but the beginning of the week was the usual not
bringing home the books he needed to do his homework, and getting
negative behavior reports. The "let’s start over monday with a clean
slate" approach usually works best for him, keeping him from getting
too discouraged, so I’m hoping to get back on a productive track next
week. Meanwhile, I’m playing phone tag with UNC’s psych clinic trying
to get his evaluation appointment set up now that I’ve gone through all
the preliminary interviews. I think it’s going to be about $750; well
worth it if it helps figure out exactly what his issues are.

We
saw Transformers last night. I could go on forever about its mixed
criticisms and endorsements of the military-industrial complex; the 90
minute Hummer commercial; the glorification of the military, etc. etc.
But it also made fun of the faceless president, and showed a few
somewhat sincere consequences of violence… all around I don’t know
how to feel about it. It was edgy for a kid’s movie, and a little flat
for a grown-up movie, but Joss loved it. Afterwards he asked some
really insightful questions, so at least it was thought provoking for
him. I dunno how I feel yet. I’ll get back to you.

Every day or
two, I realize that I’m graduating in 2 months. It leaves me with the
mixed feelings of relief, panic, and melancholy. I really, really need
to get down to Career Services and figure out how to get the kind of
research job I want… but little things, like not knowing where the
building is, really slows me down. You know, stupid stuff. I’m also
reevaluating the grad school program options. Which leads me to
university websites, which makes me crazy. Like stark raving
frustrated. But I’m not going to get started on that again because I
have another midterm I need to be studying for, and script to memorize.
Oh, by script I mean an experimenters script, since I’ll be helping to
run experiments for my research director for the next few months.
Interpersonal communications have never been so exciting… I can’t
tell you more until the experiment is over, but I’m really enjoying the
research assistant stuff. I think, theoretically, when you do the sort
of stuff we’re doing, us lowly RA’s end up somewhere on the list of
researchers when the papers get published. Which, if true, looks lovely
on grad school apps. Hmm. I should look into that too.

Faulkner
calls. Sorry for the most boring post ever, but at least it’s
something. I’m alive and somewhat kicking. Also, foaming at the mouth.
No, I mean it. You know that can of stuff that you use to clean
computer equipment? It’s like an air power-spray? Well, it’s also used
for huffing, so some companies put a "Bittering Agent" in it to prevent
abuse. Having cleaned my laptop with it, and having not read the label
carefully, every time I touch a key it gets on my fingers, which
inevitable touch my mouth and this chemical spreads into your sinuses
and it DOES NOT GO AWAY and I can always taste it or smell it and no
amount of keyboard wiping cleans it off. So, fyi, be warned. Read
labels.

drooling bitterly,

love.

Good evening, peopleses.

It’s been a busy week or two here at
casa de locos. School work, mostly; with a hefty dose of domestic
troubles– culminating in a decision I feel is probably unwise, but
moreso necessary.

I talked to my research director at length
last week, about graduate school stuff. She went to UVA (one of my top
choices) and then did her post-doc at UCLA. We talked about the
competitive nature of clinical psych programs, and Masters degree
alternatives, etc. etc. I was torn. I look ok on paper, though I could
certainly use more in the "experience" department in regards to
research. Psych departments want good assistants; your PhD is like a
consolation for several years of slavery. I could settle for a
Counseling degree and get out in 3 years, but a school is far less
likely to pay my way, since it isn’t research intensive like the PhD
is. Not a work horse program.
I’ve been mulling it over.

Sunday,
Joss was outside with 2 of the neighborhood boys– the semi-ok ones.
Foul-mouthed, but not particularly violent. They’re in the woods
walking, and Joss sees a snake coiled up around a fallen branch. He
panics. Now, if it were me and I were ten and panicking, I’d run like a
sumbitch.  But not my little monkey. My baby bit remembered back a few
weeks when my dad had killed one with a shovel. So Joss picks up a
stick, and hits it as hard as he can, going for the instant kill so it
wouldn’t suffer. This is an important part of the story. Though
panicking, he didn’t want it to suffer so he tried to kill it quickly.
He repeated this 3 times over the course of his discursive narrative.

He
wanted to know what kind of snake it was, if it was poisonous.  Perhaps
to justify its death.  So he gets a rake (I never did figure out from
where)  scoops it up and starts carrying it to a teenagers house who’s
nice to him and knows something about snakes.  As per the neighborhood
MO, he’s intercepted by several bastardly kids screwing around at a
corner. Who take the snake and start throwing it around.  Someone
catches on that it’s not actually dead, and they start throwing it on
Joss. Repeatedly.  Joss throws it off and they keep throwing it on him,
in his face, trying to get it down his shirt, etc. You can figure out
how this one goes. Joss backed off down the block, and watched the
bastardly kids torture the snake. Dragging it on the asphalt, swinging
it against poles, making a gigantic mess of cruelty in short. He went
to a nearby house and rang the doorbell and told the police officer
that lives there what was happening, and the cop shrugged him off.

Joss
comes home crying rips off his snake gutsy clothes sobbing so hard he
has an asthma attack which his inhaler doesn’t help. I talk him down to
where he can talk and curl up with him on a bed and he tells me the
disjointed story.  When he’s done, I ask questions to clarify details,
holding him. He starts crying again, whispering "I didn’t want to kill
it" over and over and over. It was so quiet I could barely hear it. He
was rocking back and forth a little. Poor kid felt responsible for what
the other kids did to the snake. I kept saying "it’s not your fault"
but I don’t know if it got through. He eventually quieted down , and
went upstairs and played games with Brian. The next morning he was back
to his usual self, in trouble by 9 am.

But that was the last
straw for me. I want to get him out of that neighborhood more than
anything. More than keeping him in arms reach of my dad.

So,
when I graduate in december, I’m taking time off. I’m going to try to
get a  Psych field job helping with some kind of research, hopefully
gaining enough experience to ease my way into Duke or back into UNC. In
the back of my mind, I’m worried that I’ll never go back. I’ll
procrastinate until I’m old enough to retire. But postponing my grad
school apps will give me year and a half to focus more on Joss, and the
financial flexibility to get us into a good neighborhood. I can’t take
it anymore. I think my 10 year old kid’s got a mild case of PTSD. This
is unacceptable.
In case I didn’t mention it, he’s also borderline
failing his grade. That parent teacher conference was a nightmare.
About biting the ADHD bullet, I called the UNC clinic, and it seems a
clinical evaluation is somewhere between $700 and $2000 dollars.
Luckily, I had set some money aside to visit Andy in England after
graduation (oh, uh, Andy, btw, I think I’m gonna have to postpone my
trip ). So, I think this is a somewhat lengthy process, but of
course I’ll let you all know how it goes.

For happier news, my
dad’s 68th birthday was Saturday. I got/had to see my brother and his
family… endearing as they are. We had dinner at the chinese
restaurant where my father has been adopted, where my future
step-sister works. I think he had a really good time, though honest to
gods I think my brother and I were encroaching on the party the staff
was trying to throw him. Anyway, I love the mural in the room we were
in, and couldn’t resist taking a dozen pics of my dad in front of it.
These are my favorites:

Anyway,
that’s all for now. Everything else in my head revolves around
Shakespeare’s history plays and prufrock’s anxiety and regrets. I’m
feelin’ it today for some reason. Something about moments flickering.

love.

Songs of the Hour: Wilco, Reigning Sound

Oi, what a week.
School started Tuesday. I have now managed to make it to each of my classes, and I can tell I have a hell of a semester in front of me. The research assistantship for the psych lab I signed up for is going to be incredibly time consuming. Fun, challenging, educational… but time consuming. So far, I haven’t had much time to do anything else.

Before us lowly assistants can start looking at real data, we have to study for and take an ethics test. This is a 5 hour process, that had to be done by this morning.  I’ve never cheated on a test in my life. I’m not sure I’ll ever really wrap my head around the irony of midnight last night, finishing the last 2 modules, where I sat flipping between browser pages looking at the information and the test alternately, filling in the little circles and passing the course.  Now, there are no instructions demanding that these hypothetical situations or history questions be answered purely from memory. But as a general rule, I try to navigate through life using fairly legitimate methods. Last night, however, it could be argued that my first, and last, experience with cheating was on an ethics test. Well, if you’re going to do it, do it right I guess.

My other classes are Shakespeare, 20th Century Literature, Terrorism, and Practical Cultural Studies.  The last requires a 20 minute presentation, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it. I need all of my classes except Terrorism in order to graduate in December, but hell if I’m giving a 20 minute presentation by myself. It took a lot of drugs and alcohol to get through the last presentation, and I had a partner. I just can’t do that again. So, that’s pending.

Aside from the aforementioned stressors, I’m having a blast. Christ, I love learning. My favorite lessons this week were how Nelson Mandela was a terrorist; and learning that Hegemony isn’t what I thought it was; it is instead the word of which I’ve always dreamed.  One of those obsessive thoughts, those concepts that lurks in the back of my mind seeking vocalization, seeking a name, has found one. I know it has a variety of meaning in different contexts, but "Ideological Hegemony" is the ticket. It’s like paradigm with power structures. mmmm. Hegemon. Like digimon or pokemon but different. Hegemony. Finally. Expect me to work it into every conversation I have for the next 3 weeks. You’ve been warned. Hegemony.

I had one of those moments in 20th Century Lit today that have run like exit signs on the highway of my English degree. In discussing differences between Modernism and post-Modernism, in how Frost and William C. Williams fit the ambiguous Modernist definition in different ways, in the elements of alienation, I had the tell-tale thought: "What a load of bullshit."
In some analysis of writers feeling "alienated from the self" as opposed to "alienated from society", my prof went on this Freudian-based tangent of dreams and identity and having not knowing oneself and ultimately, divided an individual into various sub-parts with the capacity to look at each other without recognition. Now, I’m going into clinical psych for chrissakes. You’d think I’d be patient with these sorts of metaphors and perspectives. But they get under my skin like few things can. If you don’t encourage people to break themselves down into sub-parts, into parts of a collective and say there are some aspects one can’t ever know, well, then there isn’t much to be alienated from.
I adore TS Eliot. Prufrock’s Love Song is my favorite poem. I get the idea. But it was soooo academically self-absorbed somehow. Seriously. We are given expectations of how we should live and feel, and it rarely works out as prescribed (by the Ideological Hegemony) and we experience a cognitive dissonance that makes us unfulfilled and unhappy.  There are lots of ways to describe the same emotional phenomenon. I’m not unreasonable. But 45 minutes of an in-depth discussion about the interaction of metaphorical sub-parts of a human being , well, makes me want to throw myself from the ivory tower in a giant ball of flame.  What luxury we have to spend our time this way.

Ok. All done. I need to write Joss’ teacher and try to set up a meeting with the school counselor. Some one, I won’t say who, is apparently not doing ANY of his classwork, and getting homework done is like pulling teeth. From an infant. I’m gonna bite the ADHD bullet and see what’s going on with an actual diagnosis. It’s that, or he repeats the 4th grade and graduates when he’s 20.
Wish us luck.

love.

It came to my attention during DD’s visit, that I haven’t shared one of the more interesting developments in the Bridgers’ homefront with you. Really, I can’t believe I haven’t posted it– maybe I just told everyone? Who knows. Here’s the story:

My dad eats at the same Chinese restaurant almost everyday. My father, being a sociable person, got to know the waitresses. All of whom are Chinese, only half of whom are here legally. Soon, he was doing little favors for them– taking a few of them to the market,   taking them to the mall– whatever.
After a few months, this woman "Amy" has a serious conversation with my dad. In short, her two kids are in China with her mother (remember, only allowed one kid in China). The only way for Amy to get her kids, or so she believes, is for an American to go to China and marry her mother and bring them all back. Even then, she says it’ll take 18 months for them to get here.
My dad brought this up almost a year ago, kind of a joke. He said someone offered him a free trip to China. I told him he should go. He blew me off. He brought it up again later, this time getting into more of the details, and I told him he should do it, that I’ve always wanted a Chinese step-mom. He blew me off again, and said my mom would roll over in her grave. I left it alone.
He brings it up AGAIN last week. I’ve had enough, and tell him for the love of god, go get that poor woman’s children and stop making her wait while he waffles about it. It’s been a year already, and it’ll be another year and half before anything comes of it. That’s more than 3 years for Amy, without her children; and them without their mother. I speculate about what mom would do to keep Joss and I together, and how I’m sure she’d understand this other woman’s dilemma. It’s not going to cost my dad anything, except a ring. And he gets to help these people. I don’t care, my brother won’t care, just pick a day to leave and do it already and stop chewing on it.

The next day he came home and said he was leaving January first. Now, I’m expecting him to change his mind about 5 more times between now and then. But I’m hoping Amy (from what I understand, her family is wealthy back in China) will go ahead and get the tickets and lock him into this. I know he wants to do it, but he keeps hesitating thinking of me and my brother. I think this whole issue is so complicated he’s only got a 50% chance of success anyway, so he may as well try. The immigration people aren’t joking about this stuff. It’s gonna be hard. But a 67 yr old widower looking for a Chinese wife– what, is that freakishly odd or something? Doesn’t sound nice, but it sounds plausible. I think he should do it.
and no, I’m not making this up.

Love.

Again, friendster’s a pain in the ass for posting multiple photos, so for Joss’ b-day pics  you’re gonna have to hop over to myspace. Sorry for the clicking inconvenience.