Went out for tea with Mark. He had finished a class in the early afternoon, and I figured that he would have another one in the late afternoon or early evening, but he didn't, so we talked about about four and a half hours. There are so few people in my life I can talk to for such long periods of time, and Mark is definitely one of them.
As usual, Mark and I spent a ton of time talking about poetry. He and some other mutual friends are all right now into Ann Carson, and Mark showed me one of her books. I had heard of her before, but I had never actually seen any of her poetry. And I could see why he was showing it to me. There was something very prosy about it, but also something inherently intellectual and academic. They were tight little pieces. He had borrowed the book from a friend, and we both admired her handwriting, which decorated the margins.
We also talked about book design. There's this one cover for a poetry book that we both thing is miserably bad. I told him my idea for an alternative cover, one that did a better job of displaying the title poem and looked prettier.
"Well, do you ever think about what you'd want your poetry books to look like?" he asked.
Oh, of course. I fantasize about it all the time. I don't think I'm silly enough to believe I'll ever publish a book of poetry, but I think about it.
"I usually think of the art for the book as being highly related to the content. So, I'm working on some science-related poems, and I'd like the book to be decorated with old school science drawings, the kind you see in old textbooks."
Thinking of it, I'd really like to see some of Mark's poetry. It's been a while since I looked at anything of his, though, the more I think about what I saw, the more impressed I am by it.
We also reminisced about classes we took. I confessed that Emily was sort of turned off by the way he use to talk, which maybe I shouldn't have told him. I followed it up with "But I defended you because you had just changed your major and we're probably still finding your feet," which was how I felt at the time. Plus, I honestly felt like Emily was being a tad persnickety. I love Emily, but this was one of the few times I disagreed with her. Mark wasn't that hard to understand.
I might have also admitted my momentary annoyance with Mark. When we first met, I didn't really have any thoughts on him either way, because I didn't know him. Then he started always sitting with me in class, and because I had lots of friends in this class I found myself wishing he didn't. But after a week or two I realized I really liked him and that he was my friend.
This this weird tendency around here for things to be super intense super quickly. Natalie once described this happening to her and Mike. They met and BAM! They were best friends. This was what happened to Mark. We spent very little time between acquaintance and mutual adoration.
It was mostly quiet in the tea house, but this punk guy sat down near us for a while, while I probably talked poor Mark's ear off.
Mark told me a little about his upcoming trip to Germany. He told me that he had wanted to go to London, but because of the price of hotels, he decided not to. Instead, he's going to live in a tiny town near the French border. What exactly he's doing academically, I'm not sure. He apparently speaks very good German, so I'm hoping that in addition to the usual fun travel stuff (getting to know a new place, meeting new people, speaking the local language) maybe he'll be studying German literature. There's a lot of important work that was done in both German romanticism and expressionism.
While we were sitting there, Justin's roommate, came in and said hi. He recognized me because I had met him recently.
"Are you two dating?" he asked.
It seems like Mark and I have been getting that one a lot lately. Mark said no.
"We're more like work partners," I said, thinking about how frequently we worked on various projects together. An idea occurred to me. "We're more like partners in crime," I said. Justin's roommate sort of chuckled at us for saying that.
Eventually, I had to cut our chat to an end because I was meeting Gary for sushi down the street. When Mark had originally asked me for tea, I thought that I would have plenty of time in between tea and sushi. I was going to go lock myself in a study room and try to write. But clearly, Mark and I were having so much fun, I almost lost track of time.
Gary wasn't going to let me though. About ten minutes before my sushi date, he texted me that he was going to be two minutes late. That's right: two minutes. I found this weirdly funny, because I can't think of anyone who texts to say two minutes. I don't even know if it's necessary to text if it's five, because it seems like everyone I know runs on a minimum five minute late schedule of some kind or another.
Mark thought this was funny too.
Three minutes later, Gary texted again to tell me he was going to be on time, and Mark and I both found this funny.
"He's like that. One day you'll have to meet him," I said. I had already told him tons about Jimmy.
Showing posts with label classes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classes. Show all posts
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Staying at Karl and Jimmy's
I stayed with Jimmy and Karl a couple of nights, and I was grateful that those two boys let me stay with them. I was hoping it wouldn't be awkward for them, and mostly, I think it was fine.
I was shocked at how quiet Karl could be in the morning. I couldn't even hear him. At one point, I happened to open my eyes, and there Karl was, standing at the door. I think maybe he thought I was freaked out by him watching me, so he closed the door quickly, kind of like when someone turns away fast because they don't want you to know they were staring at you. Maybe he thought I would be angry at him for staring? Honestly, if it was certain other boys, then yes, I would be, but Karl's trustable, and I saw how he was looking at me, and it wasn't filled with lust or a desire to control or anything.
The only bad thing about staying with those two are the alarms. Those were actually very loud. (Karl had early classes, which made me feel terribly sorry for him, because I hate early classes myself.) At one point, after an alarm went off, I said something really sarcastic to Jimmy. I think I asked him something along the lines of "Are you trying to get up on time or are you trying to break the sound barrier?" Jimmy just sort of vaguely mmph'ed at me, and possibly turned over.
Both of them snore, which didn't surprise me because boys notoriously sleep on their backs and that encourages snoring. It was incredible quiet snoring, though, for both of them. If anything, it was like loud breathing, and I found myself a bit conscious about the fact I was sleeping in the same room with them. But at the same time I was struck by both the intimacy and how peacefully nice it sounded. It made me revel in how calm everything was. I found myself thinking about how I need to get a boyfriend, because these soft noises were definitely something I could enjoy waking up to.
One morning Karl got up before Jimmy and I and head out to a class. Jimmy and I got up around the same time. Jimmy left for class and I went out for a walk. It was a beautiful day, and I put in my MP3 player and admired the day. And then ran into Karl, which surprised me, because I expected him to be on another part of campus, given he's an engineering major. We spoke briefly. He asked me what I was doing and I said I was out enjoying the beautiful day, which it certainly was. The sunshine was making me smiley. I was unsurprised to see he had coffee. I think he was impressed by my choice of music that morning, which happened to be punk. When I pulled my earphones out, he could hear how loud it was.
I was shocked at how quiet Karl could be in the morning. I couldn't even hear him. At one point, I happened to open my eyes, and there Karl was, standing at the door. I think maybe he thought I was freaked out by him watching me, so he closed the door quickly, kind of like when someone turns away fast because they don't want you to know they were staring at you. Maybe he thought I would be angry at him for staring? Honestly, if it was certain other boys, then yes, I would be, but Karl's trustable, and I saw how he was looking at me, and it wasn't filled with lust or a desire to control or anything.
The only bad thing about staying with those two are the alarms. Those were actually very loud. (Karl had early classes, which made me feel terribly sorry for him, because I hate early classes myself.) At one point, after an alarm went off, I said something really sarcastic to Jimmy. I think I asked him something along the lines of "Are you trying to get up on time or are you trying to break the sound barrier?" Jimmy just sort of vaguely mmph'ed at me, and possibly turned over.
Both of them snore, which didn't surprise me because boys notoriously sleep on their backs and that encourages snoring. It was incredible quiet snoring, though, for both of them. If anything, it was like loud breathing, and I found myself a bit conscious about the fact I was sleeping in the same room with them. But at the same time I was struck by both the intimacy and how peacefully nice it sounded. It made me revel in how calm everything was. I found myself thinking about how I need to get a boyfriend, because these soft noises were definitely something I could enjoy waking up to.
One morning Karl got up before Jimmy and I and head out to a class. Jimmy and I got up around the same time. Jimmy left for class and I went out for a walk. It was a beautiful day, and I put in my MP3 player and admired the day. And then ran into Karl, which surprised me, because I expected him to be on another part of campus, given he's an engineering major. We spoke briefly. He asked me what I was doing and I said I was out enjoying the beautiful day, which it certainly was. The sunshine was making me smiley. I was unsurprised to see he had coffee. I think he was impressed by my choice of music that morning, which happened to be punk. When I pulled my earphones out, he could hear how loud it was.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Meetings with Professors
I had a series of meetings with professors. I showed up at a class I wasn't enrolled in and after the class, we went back to his office to talk over my future plans.
He thinks I could make it into graduate school, which is one of the things I want to do with my life. I like academic work. Parts of it are scary, but I like reading and analyzing and talking. I'm excited about teaching. I don't want to teach younger people because there's a lot of hand holding involved, but the idea of teaching students who want to be there and are at least marginally interested in having conversations about art, literature and other related topics excites me. (Maybe I don't even want to teach in the traditional sense where I lecture and students take notes, but where I encourage students to think for themselves and learn to be their own best teachers.)
Anyway, I'm clearly getting away from the story I'm meant to be telling here.
After that first meeting, I happened to wander down the steps of the building, and I passed an office. Just to see what was going on, I poked my head in. I wanted to get a look at the list of current professors to check to see if certain people were around. And lo! A couple were. I started contemplating dropping by their door to see if they had office hours posted. As I was turning, I ran into Cameron.
I hadn't seen Cameron in about a year. He was coming out of a meeting. He looked different, in a subtle way. There was something different about how his hair sat on his head and his face seemed more square than I remembered. We talked briefly, and he told me to call him so we could have a drink.
I went down another set of stairs. I ran into another professor. He told me to come see him the next morning, at eight.
"Eight?" I said. Eight's really early for me, at least these days. I used to get up at eight for work, but since leaving that job, not so much.
I think he could sense my reluctance for that hour. He sort of laughed at me.
I've got mixed feelings about this teacher. He's kind of a jerk. I get the feeling he's one of those people with low self-esteem, because he can't seem to handle anyone knowing anything and there's something very pushy about him. But I could at least consider what he had to say. Maybe it was something good?
I went past the office of the other professor I actually wanted to see, and she told me to come in the next week, and okay, okay, I can do it. She's only available for two hours every week (pretty much no exceptions), which is kind of annoying, because I have a schedule too here.
As I was going down the last set of stairs before I reached the door to the outside, Bobby came through the door. I haven't seen him in about a year, and I was so excited to see him. Bobby is one of those people that I just adore.
Bobby and I mostly talked shop. He told me about the professor he was working with on an honors thesis. It was actually another professor I didn't particularly like, but whatever. He told me about how he's decided to concentrate on early modernism, so stuff around the time of Shakespeare.
He had heard through the grapevine a little about what I had been up to, mostly thanks to Erin. He also invited me to a party.
I have to admit that I have a bit of a crush on Bobby. In addition to being nice and smart, he's obviously into literature, and that's way more than I need to be happy with a boy. (It is a sad statement on boys that even with those two requirements, not many boys are left.) Unfortunately, Bobby's got a girlfriend, so I don't think anything will be happening there anytime soon.
He thinks I could make it into graduate school, which is one of the things I want to do with my life. I like academic work. Parts of it are scary, but I like reading and analyzing and talking. I'm excited about teaching. I don't want to teach younger people because there's a lot of hand holding involved, but the idea of teaching students who want to be there and are at least marginally interested in having conversations about art, literature and other related topics excites me. (Maybe I don't even want to teach in the traditional sense where I lecture and students take notes, but where I encourage students to think for themselves and learn to be their own best teachers.)
Anyway, I'm clearly getting away from the story I'm meant to be telling here.
After that first meeting, I happened to wander down the steps of the building, and I passed an office. Just to see what was going on, I poked my head in. I wanted to get a look at the list of current professors to check to see if certain people were around. And lo! A couple were. I started contemplating dropping by their door to see if they had office hours posted. As I was turning, I ran into Cameron.
I hadn't seen Cameron in about a year. He was coming out of a meeting. He looked different, in a subtle way. There was something different about how his hair sat on his head and his face seemed more square than I remembered. We talked briefly, and he told me to call him so we could have a drink.
I went down another set of stairs. I ran into another professor. He told me to come see him the next morning, at eight.
"Eight?" I said. Eight's really early for me, at least these days. I used to get up at eight for work, but since leaving that job, not so much.
I think he could sense my reluctance for that hour. He sort of laughed at me.
I've got mixed feelings about this teacher. He's kind of a jerk. I get the feeling he's one of those people with low self-esteem, because he can't seem to handle anyone knowing anything and there's something very pushy about him. But I could at least consider what he had to say. Maybe it was something good?
I went past the office of the other professor I actually wanted to see, and she told me to come in the next week, and okay, okay, I can do it. She's only available for two hours every week (pretty much no exceptions), which is kind of annoying, because I have a schedule too here.
As I was going down the last set of stairs before I reached the door to the outside, Bobby came through the door. I haven't seen him in about a year, and I was so excited to see him. Bobby is one of those people that I just adore.
Bobby and I mostly talked shop. He told me about the professor he was working with on an honors thesis. It was actually another professor I didn't particularly like, but whatever. He told me about how he's decided to concentrate on early modernism, so stuff around the time of Shakespeare.
He had heard through the grapevine a little about what I had been up to, mostly thanks to Erin. He also invited me to a party.
I have to admit that I have a bit of a crush on Bobby. In addition to being nice and smart, he's obviously into literature, and that's way more than I need to be happy with a boy. (It is a sad statement on boys that even with those two requirements, not many boys are left.) Unfortunately, Bobby's got a girlfriend, so I don't think anything will be happening there anytime soon.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Language Problems
My roommate, Nina, sometimes asks me for help with her English. She was texting today, and she asked me if she could say "If you need any help, don't bother asking me." I explained that she probably should say "If you need any help, just ask." She does this frequently: say the opposite of what she means, which sometimes makes determining her actual meaning hard.
I kind of wonder how she functions as her job. She works at an English newspaper, so how does she get on? I would be impossibly in trouble if I worked at a non-English newspaper.
She told me last night she wanted to learn Chinese, which is admirable, but since she's here, I personally think an English class might be a good idea. It's clear she has the vocab, but she needs to practice speaking, and well, there are classes (or coffee table nights) that cater exactly to that.
I kind of wonder how she functions as her job. She works at an English newspaper, so how does she get on? I would be impossibly in trouble if I worked at a non-English newspaper.
She told me last night she wanted to learn Chinese, which is admirable, but since she's here, I personally think an English class might be a good idea. It's clear she has the vocab, but she needs to practice speaking, and well, there are classes (or coffee table nights) that cater exactly to that.
Friday, October 15, 2010
This is What a Normal 24 Hours Looks Like
I was advised to put the mail in the mailbox next to the subway, which I did. Since I was on my way out, this worked out surprisingly well.
As I was in the subway, I put on my MP3 player. The first song to come on? "Mercy Me" by Alkaline Trio. Just before I had left, I had a conversation about punk rock and I mentioned that I loved this particular band. Funny how life happens that way.
When I got home, I was all alone, so I played music loudly and enjoyed myself. I was reading some blogs online when one mentioned about a recent National Suit Up Day to celebrate How I Met Your Mother. I don't really watch that show, but Dan does, so I texted him.
"Are you wearing a suit?" I asked. I imagined him in one. Cut rightly, it would flatter him. The actually suit would have to be form fitted, and the pants would have to be the right length (covering the ankles and slightly covering the shoes), but he would look good and adult and mature.
"I don't own a suit," he texted back. Way to blow that fantasy.
I was a little surprised this was the answer, since Dan drinks gin and has elitist views about art. But I can't really think of a reason he would need a suit either. He's also an awkward science boy; he needs clothes he can use to trample around in the mud and whatnot.
Dan texted me back. "Do you know who does have a suit?"
I thought maybe he'd mention his roommate, who also has no particular reason to have a suit. "James Bond" I texted back.
"Glenn Beck," he answered. I actually had a hard time remembering what Beck wears. Usually I'm too busy being annoyed at him.
I decided not to text Dan further, just because he is anti-text message.
Inga came home, and we chatted about our days. Inga's an actress, so she told me all about how annoying her opera teacher is and how annoying this other actress in her class is.
Jackie, one of the other roommates, came in, and we chatted about boys. Jackie's boyfriend is thirty years old, which is way older than her and which I think is kind of creepy, though I don't think it's my place to tell her what to do.
Inga and I had dinner together. (Jackie's been sick recently and hasn't wanted food lately, though she had a little later than us.) We had a nice conversation about siblings.
I like my roommates a lot, but everyone goes to bed so early. Around 10:30 or 11, which is ungodly early, really. I am use to going to bed, at the earliest, midnight. And when I'm having sleeping problems (which haven't affected me much in the last week) I'm lucky if I make it to bed before 3 in the morning. One of my former roommates, Sam, had the same problem as me, and I can't imagine her living with these girls.
Since I don't have to be up as early as them, I've been staying up later. I go to another part of the building and work on other things, mostly catching up on email. I sat in one of the lounges as this girl watched Law and Order: LA. It's by far the most boring of the franchise, and this comes from someone who watched all of Conviction.
I went back to the room to go to bed, and I don't think I made too much noise. And then I crashed.
Camilla gets up around 6 or 7 to exercise, which is fine but she exercises less than a half foot from my bed. The first time I noticed it, my voice caught a little. I didn't quite gasp.
I had breakfast that morning with Jackie. I don't think we talked much, but we were both tired. I stole a box of Cheerio's and a bagel out of the caf.
The girls all left before I did for school. My schedule looks like it's going to be later in the day than most of them. After they left, I did all my usual stuff to get ready: brushing my hair, brushing my teeth, putting on my perfume, etc.
I worked on some things online as I waited for it to get closer to when I needed to leave. I wrote some notes to friends.
I noticed that Justin was online, so I chatted with him. Justin is about to turn 25, and he mentioned that some of his Chinese friends want to take him to a strip club. I still think this is a great idea, one that Justin should totally go for, but I don't think this is going to happen. I suggested that he get a couple of other friends together for this little outing, like Nick, Dan and Daniel. There were few things I could think of that would be as funny as those four trying not to be awkward in a strip club. They're awkward around girls dressed normally; I can't imagine them around the scantily clad kind. Justin had to get going to class, and I was leaving soon myself, so I let him go.
I finally got my stuff together, and caught the subway. Sort of. I went into the car, and waited and waited. Finally, three fire fighters came by on the platform, wheeling one of those cart things. I had enough time to think "Er..." before someone came over the intercom and said that a customer was sick and that they would be starting off soon.
And eventually we did get going, though they changed where we would be stopping. This didn't affect my traveling, but it did affect a lot of other people's, who got off.
When I got to work, Alex wasn't in, so I got started on a project that Alexander had for me. He wanted me to do some research and familiarize myself with some stuff on ecofeminism. I don't really know much about ecofeminism, so I got started on the project, reading the materials he gave me.
I guess for the time being this is what my schedule is going to be, which is weirdly normal. I don't know if I can handle having a set schedule and being normal and all that. I'm use to having nothing set in stone and getting frustrated. What am I going to do when I don't have to be frustrated all the time?
As I was in the subway, I put on my MP3 player. The first song to come on? "Mercy Me" by Alkaline Trio. Just before I had left, I had a conversation about punk rock and I mentioned that I loved this particular band. Funny how life happens that way.
"Are you wearing a suit?" I asked. I imagined him in one. Cut rightly, it would flatter him. The actually suit would have to be form fitted, and the pants would have to be the right length (covering the ankles and slightly covering the shoes), but he would look good and adult and mature.
"I don't own a suit," he texted back. Way to blow that fantasy.
I was a little surprised this was the answer, since Dan drinks gin and has elitist views about art. But I can't really think of a reason he would need a suit either. He's also an awkward science boy; he needs clothes he can use to trample around in the mud and whatnot.
I thought maybe he'd mention his roommate, who also has no particular reason to have a suit. "James Bond" I texted back.
"Glenn Beck," he answered. I actually had a hard time remembering what Beck wears. Usually I'm too busy being annoyed at him.
I decided not to text Dan further, just because he is anti-text message.
Inga came home, and we chatted about our days. Inga's an actress, so she told me all about how annoying her opera teacher is and how annoying this other actress in her class is.
Jackie, one of the other roommates, came in, and we chatted about boys. Jackie's boyfriend is thirty years old, which is way older than her and which I think is kind of creepy, though I don't think it's my place to tell her what to do.
Inga and I had dinner together. (Jackie's been sick recently and hasn't wanted food lately, though she had a little later than us.) We had a nice conversation about siblings.
I like my roommates a lot, but everyone goes to bed so early. Around 10:30 or 11, which is ungodly early, really. I am use to going to bed, at the earliest, midnight. And when I'm having sleeping problems (which haven't affected me much in the last week) I'm lucky if I make it to bed before 3 in the morning. One of my former roommates, Sam, had the same problem as me, and I can't imagine her living with these girls.
I went back to the room to go to bed, and I don't think I made too much noise. And then I crashed.
Camilla gets up around 6 or 7 to exercise, which is fine but she exercises less than a half foot from my bed. The first time I noticed it, my voice caught a little. I didn't quite gasp.
I had breakfast that morning with Jackie. I don't think we talked much, but we were both tired. I stole a box of Cheerio's and a bagel out of the caf.
The girls all left before I did for school. My schedule looks like it's going to be later in the day than most of them. After they left, I did all my usual stuff to get ready: brushing my hair, brushing my teeth, putting on my perfume, etc.
I worked on some things online as I waited for it to get closer to when I needed to leave. I wrote some notes to friends.
I noticed that Justin was online, so I chatted with him. Justin is about to turn 25, and he mentioned that some of his Chinese friends want to take him to a strip club. I still think this is a great idea, one that Justin should totally go for, but I don't think this is going to happen. I suggested that he get a couple of other friends together for this little outing, like Nick, Dan and Daniel. There were few things I could think of that would be as funny as those four trying not to be awkward in a strip club. They're awkward around girls dressed normally; I can't imagine them around the scantily clad kind. Justin had to get going to class, and I was leaving soon myself, so I let him go.
I finally got my stuff together, and caught the subway. Sort of. I went into the car, and waited and waited. Finally, three fire fighters came by on the platform, wheeling one of those cart things. I had enough time to think "Er..." before someone came over the intercom and said that a customer was sick and that they would be starting off soon.
And eventually we did get going, though they changed where we would be stopping. This didn't affect my traveling, but it did affect a lot of other people's, who got off.
When I got to work, Alex wasn't in, so I got started on a project that Alexander had for me. He wanted me to do some research and familiarize myself with some stuff on ecofeminism. I don't really know much about ecofeminism, so I got started on the project, reading the materials he gave me.
I guess for the time being this is what my schedule is going to be, which is weirdly normal. I don't know if I can handle having a set schedule and being normal and all that. I'm use to having nothing set in stone and getting frustrated. What am I going to do when I don't have to be frustrated all the time?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Good Morning!
My dream this morning started off normally. I was in a classroom, and one of my old math teachers was up at the front, teaching. Everyone from these math classes I used to take was sitting in the desks, only they were older now, as these classes were years ago. After class ended, I put on my backpack (which was heavy) and my Dad came and picked me up.
This is where the dream started getting weird. We were walking along a river, and then we were walking on stepstones to get across the river, and then there was a strange sideways fountain that I think I was suppose to use as a transport device.
I never really found out because my phone rang and woke me up. It was Nate, sending me a text message, simply saying good morning. The first thing I thought was "What could Nate possibly want from me?" Not that Nate usually wants something (he's pretty good at taking care of himself, especially since the beginning of this year) but I felt like I was getting buttered up for something. I don't know Nate's schedule right now, but it was at the time of day when a lot of people are suppose to be in class.
I didn't reply right away because I was hoping to fall back asleep. Sometimes I am awoken by something but it's close enough to when my body would have naturally woken me that I am unable to fall back asleep.
But Nate hasn't texted me back yet, so maybe that means he really just wanted to be nice and actually wish me a good morning.
This is where the dream started getting weird. We were walking along a river, and then we were walking on stepstones to get across the river, and then there was a strange sideways fountain that I think I was suppose to use as a transport device.
I never really found out because my phone rang and woke me up. It was Nate, sending me a text message, simply saying good morning. The first thing I thought was "What could Nate possibly want from me?" Not that Nate usually wants something (he's pretty good at taking care of himself, especially since the beginning of this year) but I felt like I was getting buttered up for something. I don't know Nate's schedule right now, but it was at the time of day when a lot of people are suppose to be in class.
I didn't reply right away because I was hoping to fall back asleep. Sometimes I am awoken by something but it's close enough to when my body would have naturally woken me that I am unable to fall back asleep.
But Nate hasn't texted me back yet, so maybe that means he really just wanted to be nice and actually wish me a good morning.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Spending the Day Doing What I Didn't
Erin, Nori and I were outside, dancing and fooling around. Erin and Nori were taking pictures of the night. I had my camera with me, but I didn't feel like getting it out.
I was too busy dancing. I dropped my shoulders low, looking down at the ground. I put my arms out, slightly above my head, making it look like I was pushing walls away that were closing in on me. Then I moved my legs so that one foot was in front of the other. When one leg would move, I'd wobble just a little bit. I did this for a while.
I turned around. Both Nori and Erin were staring at me. "What was that?" Nori asked.
I really couldn't tell her.
They both kept taking pictures, including some of me. "You always make your pictures look nice," Erin scoffed. So sue me.
"Post them immediately!" Erin commanded. Nori told her that she had to go down to Ann Arbor the next day to see Frontier Ruckus, this band I saw a few years back. I would like to go myself, but more because I took a class with their drummer and admired how smart he was. Mark later tipped me off that he was in the same band I had liked. I suspect Ryan, the drummer, wouldn't even remember me, because why would you remember some girl from a class a year ago, even if she was one of the smartest and talkative kids in the class?
While we were dancing and taking pictures, a janitor came out and looked at us weirdly.
"We're not doing anything wrong," Erin said to her as way of explanation. And we weren't, though she skittered around us oddly.
"You would think she was used to drunks," I mentioned to Nori, even though we weren't. Usually when I've had a lot I feel like I'm swimming, but here I just felt like I did when I wake up from an unrestful sleep: tired and wishing for something better.
"We should try to break into Morrill Hall!" Erin exclaimed.
There's a long story here. Morrill is where the English department is located, and it has become a tradition for English students to "break in." By break in, I mean go through the often-unlocked front door or climb up the fire ladder. Almost ever creative writing kid I know has written a creative nonfiction piece about it.
I always had this weird fantasy of camping out in an office I had the key into. In this fantasy, there was a particular young man with me. We'd share a sleeping bag, and get up right before the sun, and watch it rise from the roof, admiring campus at dawn. This never happened, for a wide variety of reasons.
In the meantime, I had spent the day doing what I didn't get done when I was actually in school. I went for a swim with friends. I went to a co-op party. I have a long lunch without regarding the time. I had an evening of being silly with friends, regardless of the rules or time. Breaking into Morrill Hall, another thing I never got around to doing, seemed right somehow.
We drove over there, we parked in the nearby ramp. Several cars passed us. We stood outside the front door. A cop car drove by. Something about it dampened by mood.
Erin couldn't get the door open.
"If that door's not open, the rest of them aren't either," she said. "Let's go home."
I was too busy dancing. I dropped my shoulders low, looking down at the ground. I put my arms out, slightly above my head, making it look like I was pushing walls away that were closing in on me. Then I moved my legs so that one foot was in front of the other. When one leg would move, I'd wobble just a little bit. I did this for a while.
I turned around. Both Nori and Erin were staring at me. "What was that?" Nori asked.
I really couldn't tell her.
They both kept taking pictures, including some of me. "You always make your pictures look nice," Erin scoffed. So sue me.
While we were dancing and taking pictures, a janitor came out and looked at us weirdly.
"We're not doing anything wrong," Erin said to her as way of explanation. And we weren't, though she skittered around us oddly.
"You would think she was used to drunks," I mentioned to Nori, even though we weren't. Usually when I've had a lot I feel like I'm swimming, but here I just felt like I did when I wake up from an unrestful sleep: tired and wishing for something better.
"We should try to break into Morrill Hall!" Erin exclaimed.
I always had this weird fantasy of camping out in an office I had the key into. In this fantasy, there was a particular young man with me. We'd share a sleeping bag, and get up right before the sun, and watch it rise from the roof, admiring campus at dawn. This never happened, for a wide variety of reasons.
In the meantime, I had spent the day doing what I didn't get done when I was actually in school. I went for a swim with friends. I went to a co-op party. I have a long lunch without regarding the time. I had an evening of being silly with friends, regardless of the rules or time. Breaking into Morrill Hall, another thing I never got around to doing, seemed right somehow.
We drove over there, we parked in the nearby ramp. Several cars passed us. We stood outside the front door. A cop car drove by. Something about it dampened by mood.
Erin couldn't get the door open.
"If that door's not open, the rest of them aren't either," she said. "Let's go home."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Cleaning Lady
As I was staying at Nate and Megan's, I tried to be a good houseguest, which meant being as out of the way as possible. Megan and two of the other roommates went out for the weekend, so it was just Nate and I hanging out. I was thinking about blogging here to you, but then I decided that I should do something nice for Nate and co.
I had just taken a shower, and, perhaps feeling like there needed to be some cleaning, I started working on the kitchen. In my pink bathrobe. I started on the dishes, but then realized there were just too many, and many of the things were caked on.
So I went looking through their stuff for one of those brillo pads that scraps stuff off really good. That was my first clue that people didn't clean too often, because there weren't any. There were just one sponge.
Then I noticed that someone had tried to bake stuff. There was a small cake in a pan.
"Should I put this in the fridge?" I called to Nate, holding the pan up. Nate was on the other side of the room, on his computer, working on his online class.
"Yeah...that's a good idea."
There was a cupcake pan with chocolate cake still stuck, glued really, to it. I would need to soak this. Soaking something requires that I temporarily plug their sink. So I went looking for the rubber stopper that every house has. Nothing.
This of course led to the next best thing: filling the two bathroom sinks with water and then plugging both of those up. And then putting in the pan, silverware, plates, a water bottle, Tupperware.
On the way to the first bathroom sink, I found a spoon sitting next to a sock. If I had seen it in any other context, I would assume it was a piece of modern art. I showed Nate and he was grossed out by it.
Putting things in a different part of the house would mean I would need to carry it. They had a plastic dish holder/rack thing that was meant to hold dishes as they dried. I was about to use it when I noticed that too was stained a orange color. I imagined it was meat sauce from something. But I could be wrong. So I started scrubbing it.
In the meantime, Nate saw me and decided I needed some music to help, so he put it in some Lady Gaga, a favorite of mine. He put on one of my favorite songs, "Bad Romance."
There was something nicely and bizzarely domestic about the too of us. I could totally see us living together, doing this sort of thing. Nate would make food, I would wash dishes, we would pretend to be in a musical about the woes of college life. We'd be bigger than Rent.
After "Bad Romance," Nate put on "Telephone," which I am embarrassed to say is a song I'm actually working at perfecting.
I had just taken a shower, and, perhaps feeling like there needed to be some cleaning, I started working on the kitchen. In my pink bathrobe. I started on the dishes, but then realized there were just too many, and many of the things were caked on.
So I went looking through their stuff for one of those brillo pads that scraps stuff off really good. That was my first clue that people didn't clean too often, because there weren't any. There were just one sponge.
Then I noticed that someone had tried to bake stuff. There was a small cake in a pan.
"Should I put this in the fridge?" I called to Nate, holding the pan up. Nate was on the other side of the room, on his computer, working on his online class.
"Yeah...that's a good idea."
There was a cupcake pan with chocolate cake still stuck, glued really, to it. I would need to soak this. Soaking something requires that I temporarily plug their sink. So I went looking for the rubber stopper that every house has. Nothing.
This of course led to the next best thing: filling the two bathroom sinks with water and then plugging both of those up. And then putting in the pan, silverware, plates, a water bottle, Tupperware.
On the way to the first bathroom sink, I found a spoon sitting next to a sock. If I had seen it in any other context, I would assume it was a piece of modern art. I showed Nate and he was grossed out by it.
Putting things in a different part of the house would mean I would need to carry it. They had a plastic dish holder/rack thing that was meant to hold dishes as they dried. I was about to use it when I noticed that too was stained a orange color. I imagined it was meat sauce from something. But I could be wrong. So I started scrubbing it.
In the meantime, Nate saw me and decided I needed some music to help, so he put it in some Lady Gaga, a favorite of mine. He put on one of my favorite songs, "Bad Romance."
There was something nicely and bizzarely domestic about the too of us. I could totally see us living together, doing this sort of thing. Nate would make food, I would wash dishes, we would pretend to be in a musical about the woes of college life. We'd be bigger than Rent.
After "Bad Romance," Nate put on "Telephone," which I am embarrassed to say is a song I'm actually working at perfecting.
Monday, July 12, 2010
"You Kids and Your Social Life"
Tori and Ashley and I spent the afternoon out together. We ran into Erik, one of the boys we went to school with. Erik and I had been in a gym class together my senior year. I knew him because, at the time, he was dating one of my friends. We had bonded over a mutual love of metal music. Erik is now at MSU with so many of my other friends, though I don't know what he's studying. We run into each other sometimes at MSU, but today we ran into each other at my hometown. It was nice. He is lucky enough to have a job this summer.
I came home. As I was taking off my shoes, my Dad came in. "You want to get dinner?"
"Can't. I have to shower and then I am going to see a show with Madison and some other people."
"You kids and your social life."
I've been thinking a lot about my Dad and his social life, or his lack of it. Everyone else in our house has got stuff to do. My Mom is running a business, taking care of my Grandma, and getting ready for a convention. My sister is taking a class and has a job. I'm working on and off, writing, applying for jobs and internships and catching up with old friends. My Dad isn't doing any of that. He mostly just gets up early and watches tv and go out for drives. I think it's why he balks so much at everyone else being gone. He has nothing else to really think about, which is why I get such frantic calls from him about what I'm doing.
Because of the time, I had to hurry to get ready. I showered, ate some dinner (Lemon Rice soup, a favorite of mine), and got dressed. I had texted Madison to ask what I should wear. She said just a t-shirt and some jeans. I was going to go for slightly fancier, since it is always better to be more dressed up than not. For the first time since my steampunk convention, I used makeup. I almost never wear makeup, and I'm proud of myself for only using it occasionally.
Tori came and got me and we went over to Madison's. When we got there, we found Lisa and Michael sitting in Michael's car outside Madison's house. We chatted a bit. Tori felt my arm and was like "Oh! So soft." She took my arm and stuck it into the car. "Feel." Both Lisa and Michael felt my arm and agreed. With other people, this might have been a weird thing, but we've been around each other for so long that it didn't really faze me. It was like when I spent time with Paul. Paul and I lay all over each other, and neither the two of us or anyone else gets worked up about it. And, to be fair, Tori, Lisa and Michael are not the first people to comment on my soft arms.
We went inside and found Madison and her boyfriend Ted hanging out. I haven't seen Ted since New Years' Eve. He seems like a pretty cool dude. Michael wanted to play some piano pieces he's learning, and he did. He's an amazing piano player.
As we sat around waiting for Ashley, Tori told us that we should have told Ashley a half an hour before we meant her to show. Ashley is notoriously late, and we almost always run late when we get together because of her. I once showed up to something a half an hour late myself, and Tori was like "No worries. You still beat Ashley here."
We sat around and chatted about things. We talked about Michael's Dad, who drives Michael a little crazy. I mentioned to everyone that I had met Michael's Dad, but that his Dad didn't acknowledge me, so maybe he doesn't remember me. Michael laughed and said it was true.
I came home. As I was taking off my shoes, my Dad came in. "You want to get dinner?"
"Can't. I have to shower and then I am going to see a show with Madison and some other people."
"You kids and your social life."
I've been thinking a lot about my Dad and his social life, or his lack of it. Everyone else in our house has got stuff to do. My Mom is running a business, taking care of my Grandma, and getting ready for a convention. My sister is taking a class and has a job. I'm working on and off, writing, applying for jobs and internships and catching up with old friends. My Dad isn't doing any of that. He mostly just gets up early and watches tv and go out for drives. I think it's why he balks so much at everyone else being gone. He has nothing else to really think about, which is why I get such frantic calls from him about what I'm doing.
Because of the time, I had to hurry to get ready. I showered, ate some dinner (Lemon Rice soup, a favorite of mine), and got dressed. I had texted Madison to ask what I should wear. She said just a t-shirt and some jeans. I was going to go for slightly fancier, since it is always better to be more dressed up than not. For the first time since my steampunk convention, I used makeup. I almost never wear makeup, and I'm proud of myself for only using it occasionally.
Tori came and got me and we went over to Madison's. When we got there, we found Lisa and Michael sitting in Michael's car outside Madison's house. We chatted a bit. Tori felt my arm and was like "Oh! So soft." She took my arm and stuck it into the car. "Feel." Both Lisa and Michael felt my arm and agreed. With other people, this might have been a weird thing, but we've been around each other for so long that it didn't really faze me. It was like when I spent time with Paul. Paul and I lay all over each other, and neither the two of us or anyone else gets worked up about it. And, to be fair, Tori, Lisa and Michael are not the first people to comment on my soft arms.
We went inside and found Madison and her boyfriend Ted hanging out. I haven't seen Ted since New Years' Eve. He seems like a pretty cool dude. Michael wanted to play some piano pieces he's learning, and he did. He's an amazing piano player.
As we sat around waiting for Ashley, Tori told us that we should have told Ashley a half an hour before we meant her to show. Ashley is notoriously late, and we almost always run late when we get together because of her. I once showed up to something a half an hour late myself, and Tori was like "No worries. You still beat Ashley here."
We sat around and chatted about things. We talked about Michael's Dad, who drives Michael a little crazy. I mentioned to everyone that I had met Michael's Dad, but that his Dad didn't acknowledge me, so maybe he doesn't remember me. Michael laughed and said it was true.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Super Extreme Mega History Heroes
Sometimes, even your teachers manage to surprise you.
This morning, I found this video waiting for me in my inbox from my feminism professor. Even though it's true that she is a huge Bronte sisters fan, this is not exactly her style. But I love it. It makes me smile.
"Girls can't write books, ha ha ha!" Lol. I love the idea of boys and girls enacting feminist narratives.
Also, brontesaurus. The only thing I'm a little bothered by is the lace on the dinosaur. I feel like it needs an old school cameo pin too.
My one disappointment when it comes to this professor was not taking her Jane Austen class last year. I think one of my seminars was at the same time, and I didn't want to give that up because I didn't know her and had no idea if she was going to teach a good class. Turns out the feminism class was awesome. I would have almost certainly enjoyed her Austen class.
This morning, I found this video waiting for me in my inbox from my feminism professor. Even though it's true that she is a huge Bronte sisters fan, this is not exactly her style. But I love it. It makes me smile.
"Girls can't write books, ha ha ha!" Lol. I love the idea of boys and girls enacting feminist narratives.
Also, brontesaurus. The only thing I'm a little bothered by is the lace on the dinosaur. I feel like it needs an old school cameo pin too.
My one disappointment when it comes to this professor was not taking her Jane Austen class last year. I think one of my seminars was at the same time, and I didn't want to give that up because I didn't know her and had no idea if she was going to teach a good class. Turns out the feminism class was awesome. I would have almost certainly enjoyed her Austen class.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Last Day of Classes or, A Muppet Version of The Divine Comedy
Zut alors. Today was my last day of classes. I was kind of wondering if something of note was going to happen, but nothing really did.
Morning meant African history, where we watched this cool movie called Poison Fire. It's about the destruction of the Niger Delta by oil companies. If you think the oil spill in the news lately was bad, you haven't seen even a millionth of it.
Lunch with friends, where mostly we talked about movies. I asked Dan about his future plans, and he told me that he was planning on being around MSU for another year.
Early Modern European history next, which was okay. I'm still on the fence about the class. The subject is mostly interesting, and most of the other students are alright, but the professor frustrates me. I'm going to really miss Kelly, who is probably my closest friend in the class. We had a great discussion today about The Divine Comedy. It's been years since I read it, and trying to have a discussion about it to a class that hadn't read it is trying. The professor made this strange comparison between Dante's masterpiece and A Christmas Carol. I joked that now I want to see a Muppet version of The Divine Comedy.
I actually think the idea has some potential. Imagine it: Kermit as Dante, Fonzie as Virgil. A bunch of the characters can play saints. If we wanted to integrate some of the Seasame Street characters, I'd say Oscar the Grouch would have to be in Hell, just 'cause he's so miserable. ("Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!") The best part of this idea: Miss Piggy as Beatrice. Lol. She's totally the opposite of Beatrice, but I feel like it would be fun.
My last class was my feminism class. I feel like I've gotten a lot out of this class. Sam and I were talking last night, and she mentioned that she totally wanted to have a "angry feminist rant day," and I totally agree with her. I need to vent some anger; I don't care how silly I sound. Mostly, we ate snacks and talked about Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit.
I'm going to really miss hanging with certain people in this class, mostly Erin, Jamie, Kate and Sam. I met each of them a different year of college. Sam I met in my very first English class (so it feels appropriate we're ending in the same class.) Erin I met through Jon and Jane. Kate I met in my Greek Religion class. And Jamie I just met right before school started this term. Everywhere I go this last week or so, I find myself looking back to whoever I run into and think "Oh my gosh! We've known each other for x amount of years, but it seemed like I met you a month ago." Things really do fly by.
My big plans this evening were a walk and a nap. I ran into Mark and got sidetracked. Mark is really awesome. He's one of those people who you connect to on such a deep level. I feel like we are on the same wavelength. Quite possibly we could talk forever and never say everything. I have a couple of other friends like that (Josie, Colin, and Ashley all come to mind), and I love finding a new one. It's good to know somewhere someone gets you.
So no walk today, shockingly. Just a nap.
Basically, nothing interesting happened today (as a certain British king infamously wrote...), but I always end up missing the little and strange things about my past. When I think on my past, I always miss the people in it, especially the ones I don't see often anymore. I miss those great conversations, and the regular meet-ups (hallways, cafeterias, classrooms, church, basements, the woods, the Forum) and the jokes. And that's probably what I'll miss most about here: wandering into my friend's rooms at all hours of the day and night to talk or watch Jeopardy or House or Chuck, sitting around in the hallways having hours-long conversations and then getting yelled at by the mentors, having "homework parties" in rooms or lobbies, running into each other in unexpected places, taking classes together, making bad horror films late at night in the basement like the one above, caf sitting, office hours, working, and generally being a family.
It's going to take a while for me to move on. I don't even have the time right now to compress and get all my feelings out. By this time next week, I hope to begin the process.
Morning meant African history, where we watched this cool movie called Poison Fire. It's about the destruction of the Niger Delta by oil companies. If you think the oil spill in the news lately was bad, you haven't seen even a millionth of it.
Lunch with friends, where mostly we talked about movies. I asked Dan about his future plans, and he told me that he was planning on being around MSU for another year.
Early Modern European history next, which was okay. I'm still on the fence about the class. The subject is mostly interesting, and most of the other students are alright, but the professor frustrates me. I'm going to really miss Kelly, who is probably my closest friend in the class. We had a great discussion today about The Divine Comedy. It's been years since I read it, and trying to have a discussion about it to a class that hadn't read it is trying. The professor made this strange comparison between Dante's masterpiece and A Christmas Carol. I joked that now I want to see a Muppet version of The Divine Comedy.
I actually think the idea has some potential. Imagine it: Kermit as Dante, Fonzie as Virgil. A bunch of the characters can play saints. If we wanted to integrate some of the Seasame Street characters, I'd say Oscar the Grouch would have to be in Hell, just 'cause he's so miserable. ("Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!") The best part of this idea: Miss Piggy as Beatrice. Lol. She's totally the opposite of Beatrice, but I feel like it would be fun.
My last class was my feminism class. I feel like I've gotten a lot out of this class. Sam and I were talking last night, and she mentioned that she totally wanted to have a "angry feminist rant day," and I totally agree with her. I need to vent some anger; I don't care how silly I sound. Mostly, we ate snacks and talked about Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit.
I'm going to really miss hanging with certain people in this class, mostly Erin, Jamie, Kate and Sam. I met each of them a different year of college. Sam I met in my very first English class (so it feels appropriate we're ending in the same class.) Erin I met through Jon and Jane. Kate I met in my Greek Religion class. And Jamie I just met right before school started this term. Everywhere I go this last week or so, I find myself looking back to whoever I run into and think "Oh my gosh! We've known each other for x amount of years, but it seemed like I met you a month ago." Things really do fly by.
My big plans this evening were a walk and a nap. I ran into Mark and got sidetracked. Mark is really awesome. He's one of those people who you connect to on such a deep level. I feel like we are on the same wavelength. Quite possibly we could talk forever and never say everything. I have a couple of other friends like that (Josie, Colin, and Ashley all come to mind), and I love finding a new one. It's good to know somewhere someone gets you.
So no walk today, shockingly. Just a nap.
Basically, nothing interesting happened today (as a certain British king infamously wrote...), but I always end up missing the little and strange things about my past. When I think on my past, I always miss the people in it, especially the ones I don't see often anymore. I miss those great conversations, and the regular meet-ups (hallways, cafeterias, classrooms, church, basements, the woods, the Forum) and the jokes. And that's probably what I'll miss most about here: wandering into my friend's rooms at all hours of the day and night to talk or watch Jeopardy or House or Chuck, sitting around in the hallways having hours-long conversations and then getting yelled at by the mentors, having "homework parties" in rooms or lobbies, running into each other in unexpected places, taking classes together, making bad horror films late at night in the basement like the one above, caf sitting, office hours, working, and generally being a family.
It's going to take a while for me to move on. I don't even have the time right now to compress and get all my feelings out. By this time next week, I hope to begin the process.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Feminism Paper
Have been working on a paper for my English class. I'm still a little under the required page number, but at least I have something, and even having that is a big relief.
I'm writing about two works on Toni Morrison and the gaze. I'm really interested in the later. When I learned about it in a class last year, it captured my thoughts. It's one of the things I'm interested in in literary theory.
There are a couple of pop songs that I think deal implicitly with the gaze, which I'd like to write a short piece about. You know, when I get the time.
I'm writing about two works on Toni Morrison and the gaze. I'm really interested in the later. When I learned about it in a class last year, it captured my thoughts. It's one of the things I'm interested in in literary theory.
There are a couple of pop songs that I think deal implicitly with the gaze, which I'd like to write a short piece about. You know, when I get the time.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Afrobeat
Why couldn't I have taken a music appreciation class in college? We had a second music day in my African history class, and it was a blast. Today, we concentrated on Afrobeat music while talking about Nigeria.
Basically, Afrobeat was developed by Fela (1938-1997), the "king" of Afrobeat." He was from a prominent family. His grandfather was J.J. Ransome Kuti (1855-1930), an early Christian convert and church leader. Kuti was a notorious pain in the ass to British authorities, using religion as a way to keep Nigeria's colonizers honest. Fela's father was Ransome Kuti, who founded the Nigerian Union of Teachers in 1931, arguing that people need more access to education. After the second World War, Fela's father was recruited to join a London commission on higher education in Africa. His mother was a leading feminist activist and nationalist. In the 1940s, she organized 20,000 women to protest taxes and abuse by chiefs, who were notorious for stealing property.
While in London, Fela began playing gigs, then enrolled in the Trinity School of Music. Fela began playing African jazz, then blended Nigerian highlife and Juju music. He was also influenced by the awesomeness that was Bob Marley, Bruce Lee and Miles Davis. He sang it what is called a pidgin language, meaning it blended several different languages. This particular pidgin is the lingua franca in West Africa. Fela started his own clubs in Laos, then the capital of Nigeria, where he would play all night long. All of his music is political, and he clearly saw his music as a way to educate people and encourage them to be proud of their African identities. While in the U.S., he interacted with the Black Panther Movement and Sandra Isidore, who introduced him to radical literature.
Once again, the only thing I don't like is that Fela wasn't much for feminism or women, even though his mother was a leading feminist. I keep hoping as I learn about Africa, that some great women and men will promote women, but it's been few and far between. I guess this just means I'm going to have to love those few who do even more.
I'm a huge fan of American jazz and funk, so this is totally my style. I don't like every song of Fela's I've heard, but I've posted some of my favorites here. I actually think that I like him better when he doesn't sing. I would love to see music videos or this kind of music used in movies, because there's something lovely about it. It's impossible to listen to and not want to dance to, even if it's just a little swaying here and there. Of course, the lyrics are important since they articulate Fela's political beliefs and are the primary education tool.
Basically, Afrobeat was developed by Fela (1938-1997), the "king" of Afrobeat." He was from a prominent family. His grandfather was J.J. Ransome Kuti (1855-1930), an early Christian convert and church leader. Kuti was a notorious pain in the ass to British authorities, using religion as a way to keep Nigeria's colonizers honest. Fela's father was Ransome Kuti, who founded the Nigerian Union of Teachers in 1931, arguing that people need more access to education. After the second World War, Fela's father was recruited to join a London commission on higher education in Africa. His mother was a leading feminist activist and nationalist. In the 1940s, she organized 20,000 women to protest taxes and abuse by chiefs, who were notorious for stealing property.
While in London, Fela began playing gigs, then enrolled in the Trinity School of Music. Fela began playing African jazz, then blended Nigerian highlife and Juju music. He was also influenced by the awesomeness that was Bob Marley, Bruce Lee and Miles Davis. He sang it what is called a pidgin language, meaning it blended several different languages. This particular pidgin is the lingua franca in West Africa. Fela started his own clubs in Laos, then the capital of Nigeria, where he would play all night long. All of his music is political, and he clearly saw his music as a way to educate people and encourage them to be proud of their African identities. While in the U.S., he interacted with the Black Panther Movement and Sandra Isidore, who introduced him to radical literature.
Once again, the only thing I don't like is that Fela wasn't much for feminism or women, even though his mother was a leading feminist. I keep hoping as I learn about Africa, that some great women and men will promote women, but it's been few and far between. I guess this just means I'm going to have to love those few who do even more.
I'm a huge fan of American jazz and funk, so this is totally my style. I don't like every song of Fela's I've heard, but I've posted some of my favorites here. I actually think that I like him better when he doesn't sing. I would love to see music videos or this kind of music used in movies, because there's something lovely about it. It's impossible to listen to and not want to dance to, even if it's just a little swaying here and there. Of course, the lyrics are important since they articulate Fela's political beliefs and are the primary education tool.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Library Fantasy #2
I spent a ton of time today and last night doing reading for various classes (a piece on the Crusades, one of Saint Louis, part of a book on Shell Oil in Nigeria, Oranges are not the Only Fruit, "Recitatif," a Winterson article.) Mostly, when I'm doing a lot of reading, I wander around until I find a comfy/semi-quiet spot to work in, since I don't have a couch at my place right now and I get antsy if I'm not moving.One of my favorite quiet places are on the second floor of the building I live in. There's these two different rooms in two different corners of the buildings, and they're perfect. Generally, no one's there, and there are leather couches and tables and chairs. One of the rooms has tons of books, which I cataloged as a sophomore. Last night and today, I opened the windows, and enjoyed the nice weather and the perfect atmosphere for productivity. The weather has been a big help in keeping my mood up, and being left alone made it possible for me to really concentrate. I actually don't mind interruptions, usually, from friends. (It's when it's people I dislike it's a problem.)
As I was sitting in this reading room, I found myself fantasizing about having a large library someday. A nice library is a real steal. (The picture is from a conceptual piece for Buffy the Animated Series, which never happened. As of right now, it's my ideal library, except I want there to be comfortable, huge chairs, like the kind you find at Barnes and Noble, and blankets and even Snuggies.) I want to have lots of books, strange ones, leather ones, fugly ones. I want there to be no room for anything else, so there's no art on the walls. Except for Roman Empire busts. When I was in London, I hung out a little at the British Library, and one of the workers told me of a library they had received was cataloged by whatever Roman bust was on top of the shelf. I can say that I'm probably not that crazy, but I definitely want a collection: Julius, Augustus, Caligula, Nero, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Sepitimus Severus, Caracalla, Elgabalus, Valerian, Diocletian, Romulus Augustus, Justinian. And then of course, when I have visitors to my library, I'll see who's up on their stuff. Maybe to throw them off, I'll throw in Suetonius and Catullus and see who's really on their game.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Research Paper
Today's stress happens to be in part because of one of my history classes. We were supposed to turn in a proposal for a research project. The first time I went to see the professor over an idea I had, he said it was fine. Then the next day he complained about the topic to the rest of the class, not mentioning my name or anything, just complaining. Okay. So then I got worried that he wouldn't be fair grading it, because my experience has been that professors do not always grade as partially as they're supposed to. I wanted to do a queer reading of King Lear once. Professor was completely against it. I did it, and I got an okay grade. I should have found something better to talk about.
So, last week, talking with Kelly, I came up with another idea. Did a little research, tweaked the idea, and submitted it yesterday. Today, he sends me an email saying it's a great idea and then suggests a couple of other books to help with the research.
I guess I should be happy he's enthusiastic, but I'm not. All I can think of is that I basically let him dictate to me. I feel like I've been manipulated, even though I've been fully aware of it the entire time. Mostly, I wish he hadn't commented on it at all.
So, last week, talking with Kelly, I came up with another idea. Did a little research, tweaked the idea, and submitted it yesterday. Today, he sends me an email saying it's a great idea and then suggests a couple of other books to help with the research.
I guess I should be happy he's enthusiastic, but I'm not. All I can think of is that I basically let him dictate to me. I feel like I've been manipulated, even though I've been fully aware of it the entire time. Mostly, I wish he hadn't commented on it at all.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Choices
As I was walking into class today, Kelly ran up behind me. She wanted to talk about Doctor Who. Have I seen the new episode yet? No.
Mostly, I forgot that it has already premiered. I've gone so long without regular episodes that it's weird to think there are now more.
I'm still wary of this new Doctor. When Tennant announced he was leaving, a whole slew of ideas went up on the Internet, and some of them sounded like great ideas. I was disappointed that they chose Smith, who I've seen before in other things and found serviceable but ultimately not interesting enough to be anything more than a bit player. I'm also still disappointed they chose a white man instead of a woman and/or a person of color. England is not as white as so many people like to believe. It's time for its greatest tv show to do a better job of reflecting that reality.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Work Sited
In my morning class, my professor complained that the class was not doing particularly well, because, apparently, we haven't been citing sources in our papers.
I guess this really surprised me because it seemed like such an obvious thing to do to an academic paper you write for a class. If you don't cite, where the heck are you getting your info?
Kelly mentioned that she thought that it interrupted the flow of writing, which I understand. When I was writing one paper and editing another this past weekend, I need to be left alone, play good music (this time, parts of Massive Attack's new album) and just write. Usually, I write my citations before writing, as part of the outline process. That way, I can just insert the citation via copy and paste.
"Not everyone can be a superhero like you."
Maybe this is harder for people than I realize. When I was in AP Biology, a senior girl did a presentation on a type of animal. At the end of her powerpoint, she had a "work sited" page, and I about died. She had no idea that it wasn't spelled that way, which indicates that she didn't cite often, or had ever looked at a style guide (not even Purdue's OWL, which I love.) I guess I figure that everyone is forced to learn basic citing before college, but maybe I'm making an assumption there. I feel like it's usually not that hard to cite, since the information should be in the colophon anyway, and, if you're really lazy, there are apparently websites that will write the citation for you. I've even seen websites that write the citation out for people and put it at the bottom of the page. This isn't that difficult.
This particular professor is really easy about citations and sources. We aren't suppose to use anything other than our readings and lectures to write our papers, and all she demands is that we write "lecture" for anything we took from class, and then basic citation (author, title, yr. published) for readings. Her essays are basically take-home tests; tons of time isn't necessary to get a decent grade.
I guess this really surprised me because it seemed like such an obvious thing to do to an academic paper you write for a class. If you don't cite, where the heck are you getting your info?
Kelly mentioned that she thought that it interrupted the flow of writing, which I understand. When I was writing one paper and editing another this past weekend, I need to be left alone, play good music (this time, parts of Massive Attack's new album) and just write. Usually, I write my citations before writing, as part of the outline process. That way, I can just insert the citation via copy and paste.
"Not everyone can be a superhero like you."
Maybe this is harder for people than I realize. When I was in AP Biology, a senior girl did a presentation on a type of animal. At the end of her powerpoint, she had a "work sited" page, and I about died. She had no idea that it wasn't spelled that way, which indicates that she didn't cite often, or had ever looked at a style guide (not even Purdue's OWL, which I love.) I guess I figure that everyone is forced to learn basic citing before college, but maybe I'm making an assumption there. I feel like it's usually not that hard to cite, since the information should be in the colophon anyway, and, if you're really lazy, there are apparently websites that will write the citation for you. I've even seen websites that write the citation out for people and put it at the bottom of the page. This isn't that difficult.
This particular professor is really easy about citations and sources. We aren't suppose to use anything other than our readings and lectures to write our papers, and all she demands is that we write "lecture" for anything we took from class, and then basic citation (author, title, yr. published) for readings. Her essays are basically take-home tests; tons of time isn't necessary to get a decent grade.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Professors
I went in to see one of my professors about a paper. I figure professors love it when you come into see them, since so few students make the effort. I noticed last week this professor's hours were right after a class and just down the street, so it seemed perfect.
There's something off about him. I'm not totally sure yet what it is, but it's been bugging me all semester. I get the feeling that he doesn't like me. Certainly, I've heard other students complain about how pompous he is, which, although he does seem knowledgeable about the subject at hand, doesn't really make me like him all that much. But I feel like I haven't done anything that should earn me his dislike. I've shown up to every class, and participate, and always do the reading and turn in all the homework. What more should a professor want? I mean, sure, I don't always answer questions correctly, but the entire point of a class is to learn, and there's nothing to learn if you already have the answers.
It's possible he thinks I'm pompous. I do think I know a lot about the background of what we're studying. This class is on the Catholic Church in the early Modern world. I've taken heaps of medieval history classes, and, for what I hope are obvious reasons, I've managed to learn a lot about medieval Catholicism. The Catholic Church is not a dynamic institution; as a general rule, if it was once that way, it's probably still that way. So I know a lot about religious orders and saints and Popes and the general "how things work" kind of knowledge, which has been helpful. But I would be the first to concede that I don't know much about mission work or the Inquisitions. I might be quick to guess the reasons why things happened, but I wouldn't know.
Maybe this is the first time a professor has disliked my enthusiasm. I've yet to come across someone who doesn't like that I care about school, but I do. I care not just because it's school with a capital 'S,' but because I'm studying things I'm interested in, and things that I like learning about. And, really, I'm very lucky. Lots of people go to college and either study something they don't like or eventually hate. I get to do things that make me happy.
There's something off about him. I'm not totally sure yet what it is, but it's been bugging me all semester. I get the feeling that he doesn't like me. Certainly, I've heard other students complain about how pompous he is, which, although he does seem knowledgeable about the subject at hand, doesn't really make me like him all that much. But I feel like I haven't done anything that should earn me his dislike. I've shown up to every class, and participate, and always do the reading and turn in all the homework. What more should a professor want? I mean, sure, I don't always answer questions correctly, but the entire point of a class is to learn, and there's nothing to learn if you already have the answers.
It's possible he thinks I'm pompous. I do think I know a lot about the background of what we're studying. This class is on the Catholic Church in the early Modern world. I've taken heaps of medieval history classes, and, for what I hope are obvious reasons, I've managed to learn a lot about medieval Catholicism. The Catholic Church is not a dynamic institution; as a general rule, if it was once that way, it's probably still that way. So I know a lot about religious orders and saints and Popes and the general "how things work" kind of knowledge, which has been helpful. But I would be the first to concede that I don't know much about mission work or the Inquisitions. I might be quick to guess the reasons why things happened, but I wouldn't know.
Maybe this is the first time a professor has disliked my enthusiasm. I've yet to come across someone who doesn't like that I care about school, but I do. I care not just because it's school with a capital 'S,' but because I'm studying things I'm interested in, and things that I like learning about. And, really, I'm very lucky. Lots of people go to college and either study something they don't like or eventually hate. I get to do things that make me happy.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Highlife
Today, in my African history class, we did something really cool: we learned about music. Specifically, we concentrated on Highlife music, which can still be found today in Ghana and other parts of West Africa.
Highlife music grew because of a growing population in West Africa's cities, where multiple rural music styles and Ghanaian dance music mixed with Western, European music. During the second World War, U.S. servicemen (mostly African American), brought jazz, which was also incorporated into this kind of music. Mostly, they're sung in the local lingua franca, the same language that is used for conducting business affairs. A lot of this music was popular in clubs, which were expensive to get into.
There are two types of early Highlife music. One is the "lower class" version, called Palm Wine music or Guitarband Highlife. It's main instrument in the guitar, and usually performed in smaller place. It's lyrics tend to be more political, which is why I would be interested in learning more about it. After Ghana gained independence in 1957, Highlife music went out of style, only to reemerge in the 1970s, and since then it's evolved and changed.
After hearing this in class, of course, I knew I needed to go look for this sort of thing. YouTube and Google and whatnot haven't yielded much, at least not based on the musicians and bands that I noted in class. I found some E.T.Mensah, who is suppose to be the ultimate Highlife musician, but the stuff I found online wasn't as good as to whatever it was that the teacher played in class.
Luckily, I found this, which is delightful, but it's unclear to me who created this or what the songs are.
Also, I found these songs online, and I'm liking these too.
In my search, I came across World Passport, a blog that posts podcasts of this and other non-Western music. I haven't listen to any of them yet, but I think I'm going to have to.
One of the connections my teacher mentioned was Latin Jazz. She said that a lot of African music went over with slaves to the Caribbean and influenced music there, then returned in its new form to Africa to influence Highlife. Somehow, that seems perfectly right. And, I have to say, the music did remind me a little of that sort of thing, and made me think of Watermelon Man, which I'm enamored of.
I'm in love with labels like Putumayo, if only because they make it easier for me to access music like this, which I think is really fascinating to learn about.My friend Owen told me that he once took a class on world music, and I have to say, that sounds like something I would like, even though I don't really know much about music in terms of theory. I just like music in a quantitative sense: when I hear something, I know if I like it or not.
Highlife music grew because of a growing population in West Africa's cities, where multiple rural music styles and Ghanaian dance music mixed with Western, European music. During the second World War, U.S. servicemen (mostly African American), brought jazz, which was also incorporated into this kind of music. Mostly, they're sung in the local lingua franca, the same language that is used for conducting business affairs. A lot of this music was popular in clubs, which were expensive to get into.
There are two types of early Highlife music. One is the "lower class" version, called Palm Wine music or Guitarband Highlife. It's main instrument in the guitar, and usually performed in smaller place. It's lyrics tend to be more political, which is why I would be interested in learning more about it. After Ghana gained independence in 1957, Highlife music went out of style, only to reemerge in the 1970s, and since then it's evolved and changed.
After hearing this in class, of course, I knew I needed to go look for this sort of thing. YouTube and Google and whatnot haven't yielded much, at least not based on the musicians and bands that I noted in class. I found some E.T.Mensah, who is suppose to be the ultimate Highlife musician, but the stuff I found online wasn't as good as to whatever it was that the teacher played in class.
Luckily, I found this, which is delightful, but it's unclear to me who created this or what the songs are.
Also, I found these songs online, and I'm liking these too.
In my search, I came across World Passport, a blog that posts podcasts of this and other non-Western music. I haven't listen to any of them yet, but I think I'm going to have to.
One of the connections my teacher mentioned was Latin Jazz. She said that a lot of African music went over with slaves to the Caribbean and influenced music there, then returned in its new form to Africa to influence Highlife. Somehow, that seems perfectly right. And, I have to say, the music did remind me a little of that sort of thing, and made me think of Watermelon Man, which I'm enamored of.
I'm in love with labels like Putumayo, if only because they make it easier for me to access music like this, which I think is really fascinating to learn about.My friend Owen told me that he once took a class on world music, and I have to say, that sounds like something I would like, even though I don't really know much about music in terms of theory. I just like music in a quantitative sense: when I hear something, I know if I like it or not.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Perspective
Since the weather got better a few weeks back, I've been going out for regular walks. Today was not quite as nice as two weeks ago, but that's not why I'm writing.
I'm writing because going out on walks, what is usually a solitary event for me, has gotten rather social.
Saturday I went for a walk with my friend Matt. I ran into Matt the previous Thursday, again, while walking. Both times we had nice, long conversations, mostly about nothing of consequence. We talked about things like Doctor Who, mutual friends, pennies, the future and cigarettes. We also talked a little about Matt's ex-girlfriend, Virgina. They had been dating for a long time and only broke up last week. I hadn't seen her, but I offered to be a sounding board for Matt, who I would imagine would take it harder than her. Matt actually is handling it better than I expected. He's obviously unhappy, but dealing with it surprisingly well. He mostly didn't want to talk about it with me, and that's fine, as I realize most guys aren't verbose on anything involving emotions, so I've let it go. If Matt wants to say more to me, I trust he will.
Today, I first ran into Mike. We met in a poetry class last year, and we've both recently been selected to read at a program for the English department. I'm very nervous about it, though I know I'm being a bit silly. It'll probably be fine. Mike talked to me about poetry. He said he had one of the professors for a creative writing class, and we had a short discussion about erasures.
Less than five minutes after parting ways I run into Mitch, coming back from West Circle. I really like Mitch a lot. Mostly I like how we always manage to have a laugh about something. Today, it was certain characters that we think are ridiculous and worth our quiet scorn. I have to say, sometimes he surprises me, since I didn't realize how much he disliked a certain someone.
This time, I think I managed seven minutes before I saw Virginia, coming to me on her bike. She was super excited because she got a job for the summer, at a nearby nature reserve. I think that's excellent, as that means it'll be another great thing for her resume. I don't know if she knew I was hanging out with her ex recently.
But really, that walk took me an extra twenty minutes to complete.
Matt once told me that I would have to choose amongst my friends, because I have too many of them. I disagree. I think life manages to choose for me. Geography, bad behavior, incompatibility all seem to have done a marvelous job of cleaning out my friends every six months to two years. I guess it would be easy to get sad about those moments where I realize I can't be close to someone anymore (or, sometimes even more disappointing, won't ever be close to someone), but I think this makes me just treasure the friends I've had for so long all the more dear to me. Plus, even if I only hang around someone for a little while, it's still a great opportunity to learn new things and see the world from another perspective.
I'm writing because going out on walks, what is usually a solitary event for me, has gotten rather social.
Saturday I went for a walk with my friend Matt. I ran into Matt the previous Thursday, again, while walking. Both times we had nice, long conversations, mostly about nothing of consequence. We talked about things like Doctor Who, mutual friends, pennies, the future and cigarettes. We also talked a little about Matt's ex-girlfriend, Virgina. They had been dating for a long time and only broke up last week. I hadn't seen her, but I offered to be a sounding board for Matt, who I would imagine would take it harder than her. Matt actually is handling it better than I expected. He's obviously unhappy, but dealing with it surprisingly well. He mostly didn't want to talk about it with me, and that's fine, as I realize most guys aren't verbose on anything involving emotions, so I've let it go. If Matt wants to say more to me, I trust he will.
Today, I first ran into Mike. We met in a poetry class last year, and we've both recently been selected to read at a program for the English department. I'm very nervous about it, though I know I'm being a bit silly. It'll probably be fine. Mike talked to me about poetry. He said he had one of the professors for a creative writing class, and we had a short discussion about erasures.
Less than five minutes after parting ways I run into Mitch, coming back from West Circle. I really like Mitch a lot. Mostly I like how we always manage to have a laugh about something. Today, it was certain characters that we think are ridiculous and worth our quiet scorn. I have to say, sometimes he surprises me, since I didn't realize how much he disliked a certain someone.
This time, I think I managed seven minutes before I saw Virginia, coming to me on her bike. She was super excited because she got a job for the summer, at a nearby nature reserve. I think that's excellent, as that means it'll be another great thing for her resume. I don't know if she knew I was hanging out with her ex recently.
But really, that walk took me an extra twenty minutes to complete.
Matt once told me that I would have to choose amongst my friends, because I have too many of them. I disagree. I think life manages to choose for me. Geography, bad behavior, incompatibility all seem to have done a marvelous job of cleaning out my friends every six months to two years. I guess it would be easy to get sad about those moments where I realize I can't be close to someone anymore (or, sometimes even more disappointing, won't ever be close to someone), but I think this makes me just treasure the friends I've had for so long all the more dear to me. Plus, even if I only hang around someone for a little while, it's still a great opportunity to learn new things and see the world from another perspective.
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