I got a facebook message today from a guy I knew tangentially in college saying that he was going through old issues of the poetry magazine and one of my poems really struck him. Aside from totally making my night (I mean, this is probably up there for top facebook messages I've ever gotten...with the propositioning for friendship and the "lets hook up" ones rounding out the top, of course), it really made me think about what I've given up creatively and the ways in which my mind works now versus how it worked in the past.
I haven't written a poem or seriously attempted to do so since I took the advanced poetry workshop my junior year. Even when I feel compelled to express something (which happens sometimes, late at night, when it is quiet, or when I am very, very sad), I feel paralyzed by the pressure of having to produce something. I'm my own worst critic...I've spent far too much time reading and loving poetry, as well as judging other peoples' work, to let myself just explode words on a page and work around that inspiration. I immediately second-guess things, or hate a turn of phrase, or again, get totally overwhelmed by the thought of having to write something that I deem worthwhile.
It doesn't help that I was never a "real" poet in my process...most of my best poems just came out similar to their final versions, pretty fully formed and without the need for many edits. I never learned to refine something until it worked; the poem either came out working or I would scrap it entirely while I was writing it. I never developed the right kind of work ethic to rethink or repolish a poem. I don't know how to take a few stellar lines in a bad piece of work and just make something entirely new from it.
Most critically, though, is the fact that I don't really feel as deeply and intensely as I did before. In high school, I wrote poems about emotions that I had never felt, experiences I had never had. I could write because my mind could explore anything and link it to whatever I wanted...I hadn't lived enough to be limited by what something "really felt like." In college, I was pretty intensely depressed at points. For the three years that I was writing, I either wrote about my father leaving or else about failed relationships (the first year) and intensely missing my partner (yeah, long distance relationships). I could write because I was living through things I could document, because I actually was going into the woods at night and sitting on the same rock to smoke and cry. This made for a bunch of self-indulgent poems, but I (like to think I) wrote some rather beautiful things and painted some interesting images. Even if they were true to life.
These days, bogged down by fear of writing shit and lack of inspiration, I just feel like those kinds of poems are too obnoxious and self-indulgent. I've grown up. I'm pretty much over my father's absence, and I'm far too emotionally stunted/burned out from my last relationship (two and a half years, mind you) to care about the little flings I have here and there to break up the monotony. I don't think I feel anything too much anymore, which is why there's nothing for me to channel into writing. How can you express something in words when there's nothing to express? Or it feels compeletely trivial to express anything at all?
Maybe I just need for things to marinate, for more life experience to acculumate, and then I can start writing again in a way that feels right to me. All I know is that I feel a little sad now when I think about poetry and what it used to mean to me back then and the huge role it played in my life. It doesn't anymore. And maybe that's okay. And maybe that will change.
Also, to keep this post from being totally whiny and self-absorbed, here's a hilarious link about the different types of hookups that occur at academic conferences. Oh la la!
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Monday, October 6, 2008
procrastination, procrastination, procrastination
You know, when you put off updating a blog for a damned long time (in this case, about a month, and that month being the first month of the first semester of your first year), you get into this vicious cycle of constant delay because you figure, hell, what's one more delayed rant about a mini crisis in the whole long scheme of things. Well, I'm trying to break out of that cycle and start updating more regularly, so here goes a quick recap of whats been going on with me/revelations from the past few weeks:
-Whoever told me my rigorous undergrad education would make grad school seem like a breeze LIED. All I do is work, watch trashy tv to let my brain rest, and bitch about all the fun I'm missing out on. 9-5? Yeah, I WISH.
-Sometimes I feel like I'm in the wrong program. I don't speak at all in my English classes, but for some reason, have no problem talking all the damned time in my Anthro classes. Hrm. Part of this is my total lack of understanding of the English lens, but I think the other part is that I just don't really care about aesthetics/aesthetic concerns. There, I said it.
-I have officially humiliated myself by crying in the office of one of my academic idols. This was prompted by her question "So why are you in an English program," which led to panic and tears and me interpreting that question to be rhetorical and a blinding insight into my total lack of suitability for the study of literature. Which it wasn't and she totally didn't mean. But, you know, it kind of sucked at the time.
-Readings for my classes seem to follow a consistent theme. It's almost as if my profs are deciding on their syllabi together...Week 1 was Marx/Hegel/Kant, Week 2 was Freud/Lacan, and Week 3 was Derrida (aka the week I tried unsuccessfully to throw myself out the window of my basement apartment)
-I, uh, am apparently the representative for the first years in our grad school version of student government. This is what happens when you are one of only two years who show up to a meeting (BECAUSE YOU ARE ENTICED BY THE PIZZA. Kids, let this be a lesson to you! Gluttony is bad!)
-Am thinking about starting a radical pedagogy reading group. Though how I'm going to manage to do even MORE reading on top of the five classes I have, the two reading groups I'm already part of, and the reading group my adviser wants me to start (tracing the work of some theorist, his suggestion is "Judy" Butler HA), I have no idea. I'm starting to think I'm just asking for more trouble.
-My life outside of grad school is zero. Ergo my personal life is zero. The two options I was half-heartedly pursuing didn't work out (ok, so maybe one is still working out, but I don't want it to because frankly, while this girl is quite attractive, I am terribly bored by her), and honestly, I'm starting to think I'm not capable of being actually interested in anyone right now. That said, I'm meeting some fabulous friends outside of my program, including M in the history program and R in communications. Hurrah qpoc!
-I'm thinking about writing my final paper for one of these classes on the MTV show From G's to Gents. Oh yes, I am totally becoming a Serious Academic (but seriously...constructions of black masculinity? Male fraternity/homoeroticism? Issues of intention/reception/audience? It's a goldmine!)
-Speaking of which: I AM GOING TO AN ACADEMIC TALK ON R. KELLY AND TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET THIS WEEK. (Highlight of my day/week/month? Undoubtedly!)
-Ok, and I also recently attended a talk given by David Scott, who had this amazing discussion on the generational differences in experiences of temporality in Granada. I put this in not only because it was a really thought-provoking paper, but also to make it seem like I actually do attend legit academic functions (HA).
I can't really think of any more things that have happened offhand, but I think those points kind of cover the major things that have been going on with me. While I have been angsting about/questioning my preparedness, intelligence, and suitability (a lot, a lot), I figure we all have to start from somewhere, and I might as well use my panic to move forward and work hard(er).
That said, expect a frazzled, panicky, self-doubting post sometime in the near future. What good's a blog if I can't rant and bitch and totally freak out, right?
-Whoever told me my rigorous undergrad education would make grad school seem like a breeze LIED. All I do is work, watch trashy tv to let my brain rest, and bitch about all the fun I'm missing out on. 9-5? Yeah, I WISH.
-Sometimes I feel like I'm in the wrong program. I don't speak at all in my English classes, but for some reason, have no problem talking all the damned time in my Anthro classes. Hrm. Part of this is my total lack of understanding of the English lens, but I think the other part is that I just don't really care about aesthetics/aesthetic concerns. There, I said it.
-I have officially humiliated myself by crying in the office of one of my academic idols. This was prompted by her question "So why are you in an English program," which led to panic and tears and me interpreting that question to be rhetorical and a blinding insight into my total lack of suitability for the study of literature. Which it wasn't and she totally didn't mean. But, you know, it kind of sucked at the time.
-Readings for my classes seem to follow a consistent theme. It's almost as if my profs are deciding on their syllabi together...Week 1 was Marx/Hegel/Kant, Week 2 was Freud/Lacan, and Week 3 was Derrida (aka the week I tried unsuccessfully to throw myself out the window of my basement apartment)
-I, uh, am apparently the representative for the first years in our grad school version of student government. This is what happens when you are one of only two years who show up to a meeting (BECAUSE YOU ARE ENTICED BY THE PIZZA. Kids, let this be a lesson to you! Gluttony is bad!)
-Am thinking about starting a radical pedagogy reading group. Though how I'm going to manage to do even MORE reading on top of the five classes I have, the two reading groups I'm already part of, and the reading group my adviser wants me to start (tracing the work of some theorist, his suggestion is "Judy" Butler HA), I have no idea. I'm starting to think I'm just asking for more trouble.
-My life outside of grad school is zero. Ergo my personal life is zero. The two options I was half-heartedly pursuing didn't work out (ok, so maybe one is still working out, but I don't want it to because frankly, while this girl is quite attractive, I am terribly bored by her), and honestly, I'm starting to think I'm not capable of being actually interested in anyone right now. That said, I'm meeting some fabulous friends outside of my program, including M in the history program and R in communications. Hurrah qpoc!
-I'm thinking about writing my final paper for one of these classes on the MTV show From G's to Gents. Oh yes, I am totally becoming a Serious Academic (but seriously...constructions of black masculinity? Male fraternity/homoeroticism? Issues of intention/reception/audience? It's a goldmine!)
-Speaking of which: I AM GOING TO AN ACADEMIC TALK ON R. KELLY AND TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET THIS WEEK. (Highlight of my day/week/month? Undoubtedly!)
-Ok, and I also recently attended a talk given by David Scott, who had this amazing discussion on the generational differences in experiences of temporality in Granada. I put this in not only because it was a really thought-provoking paper, but also to make it seem like I actually do attend legit academic functions (HA).
I can't really think of any more things that have happened offhand, but I think those points kind of cover the major things that have been going on with me. While I have been angsting about/questioning my preparedness, intelligence, and suitability (a lot, a lot), I figure we all have to start from somewhere, and I might as well use my panic to move forward and work hard(er).
That said, expect a frazzled, panicky, self-doubting post sometime in the near future. What good's a blog if I can't rant and bitch and totally freak out, right?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
books, mates, and pests
The great thing about having friends with excellent reading tastes is that you inevitably get introduced to new works of literature (or, in my case, hover above their bookshelves and surreptitiously steal their favorites when they're not looking). Most recently, having crashed with my friend R twice in the past four days (once for a potluck, once for a charming -albeit ultimately boring- silent film in the park near her house), I have had the extreme pleasure of reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth and Rabih Alameddine's The Hakawati. I would recommend both without hesitation--Unaccustomed Earth is, as Lahiri's writing always is, understated but powerfully moving, while The Hakawati had me laughing out loud with its wry, witty humor. (Also: did I just do one of those vague, adjective-driven book reviews that really tells you nothing about the book? Yes. Gross. Please forgive me now.)
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).
Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!
Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).
Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!
Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
oh fail
Came home last night to find a big fat mouse slinking across my stove top.
This in addition to the two massive cockroaches I've killed and the one that scurried to safety underneath my bookshelf.
Today (aka Day 1 of Operation Extermination): dispersed Raid roach killer tablet things (I'm assuming there's boric acid in there) and mousetraps. Was slightly bitter about having to bait the traps with JIF extra-crunchy peanut butter. What a waste of my favorite snack.
This in addition to the two massive cockroaches I've killed and the one that scurried to safety underneath my bookshelf.
Today (aka Day 1 of Operation Extermination): dispersed Raid roach killer tablet things (I'm assuming there's boric acid in there) and mousetraps. Was slightly bitter about having to bait the traps with JIF extra-crunchy peanut butter. What a waste of my favorite snack.
Monday, August 11, 2008
one month later
And hopefully this time I'll stick around. I've been busy with life in general: going out to bars and clubs and dance parties (and throwing a few myself), attending amazing performances (such as one last week exploring the relationships between food, personal identity, and power/politics), and getting myself into (and out of, thankfully!) some sticky situations with relationships (lesson of the summer: extreme attractiveness does not surmount personal issues/craziness. Really. It's not a fair tradeoff at all, and one should not be tempted by one's lust/poor decision making abilities/inability to draw boundaries slash say no to justify such a tradeoff. It's bad news, kids).
After a weeklong visit from my friend T and the accompanying flurry of events and meet-ups with other friends in the area, I'm now happy to say that I am settled in my apartment and ready to return to my hermit-y (and academically productive!) ways. On the list: get through my readings for one of my classes (and write summaries for each of the readings, yes I've decided to be ridiculously anal like that) and continue making time for my "just for fun/personal interests" books. I'm currently working my way through The Erotic Margin: Sexuality and Spatiality in Alteritist Discourse, which explores the ways in which space is transformed (socially produced and reproduced) into place through particular discourses, or more specifically, the ways in which the "East" or "Orient" is constructed through discourses of gender and sexuality. I'm only on the second chapter, but I find the book incredibly interesting and relatively not dense (all things considering) and would definitely recommend it to anyone with the time and/or interest.
In other news, I've been pretty productive (in an unproductive way) today, and so far, I've managed to:
1) Request to be added to the mailing lists of the postcolonial lit and gender/sexuality reading groups of my program
2) Ask for the syllabus of this amaaazing graduate anthropology course that explores agency, temporality, and sovereignty in relation to travel and migration (and which I can't audit because I have another class at the same time, TEARS)
3) Request an audit in another course which is supposed to be a critical examination of contemporary theories in cultural and social anthropology
4) Make a (required) appointment with my department chair during the first two weeks of classes (which start in early September, EEK!)
...
Ok, so maybe all of those things took about 30 minutes to accomplish (minus the researching of graduate anthropology courses, aka me poring over course descriptions and drooling like an extremely dorky kid in an extremely dorky candy store). And possibly came after about 3-4 hours of watching Olympics highlights/reruns online (what can I say, I like gymnastics and diving!)
Alright, no more procrastination from me. Off to the summary writing and reading!
After a weeklong visit from my friend T and the accompanying flurry of events and meet-ups with other friends in the area, I'm now happy to say that I am settled in my apartment and ready to return to my hermit-y (and academically productive!) ways. On the list: get through my readings for one of my classes (and write summaries for each of the readings, yes I've decided to be ridiculously anal like that) and continue making time for my "just for fun/personal interests" books. I'm currently working my way through The Erotic Margin: Sexuality and Spatiality in Alteritist Discourse, which explores the ways in which space is transformed (socially produced and reproduced) into place through particular discourses, or more specifically, the ways in which the "East" or "Orient" is constructed through discourses of gender and sexuality. I'm only on the second chapter, but I find the book incredibly interesting and relatively not dense (all things considering) and would definitely recommend it to anyone with the time and/or interest.
In other news, I've been pretty productive (in an unproductive way) today, and so far, I've managed to:
1) Request to be added to the mailing lists of the postcolonial lit and gender/sexuality reading groups of my program
2) Ask for the syllabus of this amaaazing graduate anthropology course that explores agency, temporality, and sovereignty in relation to travel and migration (and which I can't audit because I have another class at the same time, TEARS)
3) Request an audit in another course which is supposed to be a critical examination of contemporary theories in cultural and social anthropology
4) Make a (required) appointment with my department chair during the first two weeks of classes (which start in early September, EEK!)
...
Ok, so maybe all of those things took about 30 minutes to accomplish (minus the researching of graduate anthropology courses, aka me poring over course descriptions and drooling like an extremely dorky kid in an extremely dorky candy store). And possibly came after about 3-4 hours of watching Olympics highlights/reruns online (what can I say, I like gymnastics and diving!)
Alright, no more procrastination from me. Off to the summary writing and reading!
Friday, July 11, 2008
back again
And most importantly...with internet! I'm not going to lie, the time I spent without it was hellish (I know, can you hear the privilege oozing out of me right now?), and I am definitely glad to be clicking away obsessively wasting my time again. I spent a lot of my time re-reading of old books and theory, which was admittedly quite pleasant, but then things quickly devolved to the point where I started wiping my floors by hand and alphabetizing my bookshelves. Yes. Really.
On the upside, I got quite a bit of time to think, re-watch old seasons of the L Word (such an amazing and trashy show!), and almostkindofsortof get vague itchings to write poetry. Alas, such scratchy moments never materialized into anything solid, but you know, it's good to get those vibes again and I have much hope that things will turn out alright for my poetic inspirations.
As my writing of this entry also indicates, I have not yet been killed, traumatized, or even mildly mugged. Harassment has only come in the form of catcalls, which lets not kid ourselves, any woman between the ages of 15-35 should expect in a city. Knock on wood that the trend continues (minus the catcalls, of course).
I've also ventured into the city a few times, mainly to go to bars with friends, most notably to attend a dance party featuring Brazilian and French pop from the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and then to watch the Smoking Popes perform an amazing show (which unfortunately was ended by an extremely creepy and drunk old man constantly sidling up to me and trying to talk/touch me despite at one point being physically removed from me by his much more socially appropriate friend). Tonight involved some really moving musical narratives featuring a puppet group for social justice (shadow puppets = so fucking beautiful, just need to get that out there), and then a stint at one of the few bars in the city that still allows smoking indoors.
Tomorrow's plans are lunch in Chinatown and an ice cream festival during the day, while night will find me twirling away at the last queer dance party of a particular host before they head to the Bay area. Life is good. And I have faith that it will get better.
On the upside, I got quite a bit of time to think, re-watch old seasons of the L Word (such an amazing and trashy show!), and almostkindofsortof get vague itchings to write poetry. Alas, such scratchy moments never materialized into anything solid, but you know, it's good to get those vibes again and I have much hope that things will turn out alright for my poetic inspirations.
As my writing of this entry also indicates, I have not yet been killed, traumatized, or even mildly mugged. Harassment has only come in the form of catcalls, which lets not kid ourselves, any woman between the ages of 15-35 should expect in a city. Knock on wood that the trend continues (minus the catcalls, of course).
I've also ventured into the city a few times, mainly to go to bars with friends, most notably to attend a dance party featuring Brazilian and French pop from the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and then to watch the Smoking Popes perform an amazing show (which unfortunately was ended by an extremely creepy and drunk old man constantly sidling up to me and trying to talk/touch me despite at one point being physically removed from me by his much more socially appropriate friend). Tonight involved some really moving musical narratives featuring a puppet group for social justice (shadow puppets = so fucking beautiful, just need to get that out there), and then a stint at one of the few bars in the city that still allows smoking indoors.
Tomorrow's plans are lunch in Chinatown and an ice cream festival during the day, while night will find me twirling away at the last queer dance party of a particular host before they head to the Bay area. Life is good. And I have faith that it will get better.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
mystery solved!
It turns out that the random emailer found my information on my program's website and only made a lucky guess that I was also into postcolonial literature. I've been corresponding back and forth with him over the past week and a half, and I have to say, it's quite interesting to exchange ideas with someone whose background and current context are so different from my own. I recently turned 22 years old (my birthday was on the 24th!) and have jumped straight from undergrad to a Ph.D. program. My e-pal is probably in his 40s (this guess based on the pictures he sent), married with two children (ages 12 and 14), and has an MPhil in International Relations and is working on an MA in English.
In other news, I move back to my apartment on Saturday and will officially be living alone for the first time in my life. I'm pretty nervous about it, though apparently not as nervous as some of my friends are for me. I've heard from quite a few of them that they've had conversations amongst themselves about how badly my first year alone can potentially go. Chief concerns include:
1) My horrible habit of smiling at or enduring conversation from random strangers (I can't help it! I'm from the Midwest, dammit!)
2) What can only be kindly termed as my sheer ridiculousness/impracticality/lack of life skills (as one good friend put it, "I have these visions of the lights going off in your apartment and you not knowing what to do about it." Me: "So true. Touche. Touche.")
3) The way I become a crazy hermit when I'm left to my own devices (namely: I burrow into my room and basically fall off the face of the planet. All the while, my mind wanders into strange crevices of the universe and folds in on itself, usually in ways that do not enhance my already degraded social skills)
4) Me + alcohol (I don't really drink anymore, so when I do, I tend to get smashed, and I'm not using that word lightly) + no one to walk me home + my horrible sense of surroundings (not only do I have no concept of directions, but I'm also ridiculously unobservant. I don't notice when people I'm looking for are literally two feet away from me, which doesn't bode well for walking the streets of a major city at night)
On the upside, though, I have two months before the program starts to feel everything out and hopefully become more of a seasoned individual (seasoned at...life? Apartment-dwelling? Not being a sheltered child? Hmm...the possibilities are endless!). On the downside, I won't have internet service until July 7, so I will be unable to post until then.
Lets all cross our fingers that I don't go wacky from the lack of internet (I compulsively check my email at least 15+ times a day) or else have some other kind of horrible disaster befall me. Positive thoughts, people! Positive thoughts!
In other news, I move back to my apartment on Saturday and will officially be living alone for the first time in my life. I'm pretty nervous about it, though apparently not as nervous as some of my friends are for me. I've heard from quite a few of them that they've had conversations amongst themselves about how badly my first year alone can potentially go. Chief concerns include:
1) My horrible habit of smiling at or enduring conversation from random strangers (I can't help it! I'm from the Midwest, dammit!)
2) What can only be kindly termed as my sheer ridiculousness/impracticality/lack of life skills (as one good friend put it, "I have these visions of the lights going off in your apartment and you not knowing what to do about it." Me: "So true. Touche. Touche.")
3) The way I become a crazy hermit when I'm left to my own devices (namely: I burrow into my room and basically fall off the face of the planet. All the while, my mind wanders into strange crevices of the universe and folds in on itself, usually in ways that do not enhance my already degraded social skills)
4) Me + alcohol (I don't really drink anymore, so when I do, I tend to get smashed, and I'm not using that word lightly) + no one to walk me home + my horrible sense of surroundings (not only do I have no concept of directions, but I'm also ridiculously unobservant. I don't notice when people I'm looking for are literally two feet away from me, which doesn't bode well for walking the streets of a major city at night)
On the upside, though, I have two months before the program starts to feel everything out and hopefully become more of a seasoned individual (seasoned at...life? Apartment-dwelling? Not being a sheltered child? Hmm...the possibilities are endless!). On the downside, I won't have internet service until July 7, so I will be unable to post until then.
Lets all cross our fingers that I don't go wacky from the lack of internet (I compulsively check my email at least 15+ times a day) or else have some other kind of horrible disaster befall me. Positive thoughts, people! Positive thoughts!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
oh goodness
So I went to the rock/paper/scissors tournament last night and somehow made it to the semifinal match. I lost in the third round, third throw (oh the drama/tension! I chose scissors, he chose rock), but I don't feel too bad about it because: 1) I honestly think rps is mainly chance (though I guess with the top 2 guys there seemed to be some strategy involved) 2) I lost to the eventual champ, who with his win, set the City League (yes, there is apparently a league. And there was an official ref, with official ref-wear) record for most championships in a season.
So it goes.
So it goes.
Monday, May 19, 2008
i'm still alive! promise!
Apologies for neglecting to blog for such a long time. I finally finished all of my academic work last Friday (before then I was camped out in an academic building for four days and nights straight. I have to say, sleeping in my own busted bed has never felt so good!) and since then, I've really just been spending all of my time hanging out with friends, eating at yummy restaurants, and just appreciating the time I have left with them (graduation is June 1 for me).
Last week, my friends and I took a four hour study break and went to a bar to see Benni E. (http://www.myspace.com/bennipanama), Does It Offend You, Yeah? (http://www.myspace.com/doesitoffendyou), and Yo Majesty (http://www.myspace.com/yomajesty4life). Benni E. and Yo Majesty are both queer female hip hop acts (incidentally, I think something's going on with Yo Majesty...there are supposed to be three of them, but only one showed up and talked about difficulties with the group. Perhaps they're on the road to breaking up?) and I have to say that they were pretty fucking amazing. It's always nice to see qpoc holding it down...and there's nothing hotter than an empowered female performer.
The most ridiculous part of the night though was when I realized that one of my future profs at Penn was at the show and was rocking out directly next to me with her girlfriend. It was so funny and surreal (I said hi and gave her a hug) and really reminded me again that profs are people too and not just academic gods with no lives outside of writing theory. For some reason this is still a difficult fact for me to accept. I just want to idolize my profs, dammit!
Tonight I'm going to a paper-scissors-rock tournament (yes, really) and then a bar/club. It should be a pretty chill time, and until then, I plan on wasting my life watching Buffy (I am so unfortunately addicted to this show) and trolling around the internet. Good times!
Last week, my friends and I took a four hour study break and went to a bar to see Benni E. (http://www.myspace.com/bennipanama), Does It Offend You, Yeah? (http://www.myspace.com/doesitoffendyou), and Yo Majesty (http://www.myspace.com/yomajesty4life). Benni E. and Yo Majesty are both queer female hip hop acts (incidentally, I think something's going on with Yo Majesty...there are supposed to be three of them, but only one showed up and talked about difficulties with the group. Perhaps they're on the road to breaking up?) and I have to say that they were pretty fucking amazing. It's always nice to see qpoc holding it down...and there's nothing hotter than an empowered female performer.
The most ridiculous part of the night though was when I realized that one of my future profs at Penn was at the show and was rocking out directly next to me with her girlfriend. It was so funny and surreal (I said hi and gave her a hug) and really reminded me again that profs are people too and not just academic gods with no lives outside of writing theory. For some reason this is still a difficult fact for me to accept. I just want to idolize my profs, dammit!
Tonight I'm going to a paper-scissors-rock tournament (yes, really) and then a bar/club. It should be a pretty chill time, and until then, I plan on wasting my life watching Buffy (I am so unfortunately addicted to this show) and trolling around the internet. Good times!
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