Friday, 31 October 2008
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Self-Fulfilling Prophecies
Okay, so I feel better after being a rockstar of a student today. I got up and made coffee and camped out at my desk for two hours reading essays, then went to the RAI and accidentally crashed a fellow's seminar on the post-Goodridge battle for marriage in Massachusetts. I didn't know it was a fellow's seminar, I just saw it on the schedule and thought it looked cool. And it turned out that David and I were the only randoms who showed up, which didn't at all stop us from grabbing sandwiches and fruit and staying for the seminar. Honestly, the paper wasn't that enlightening - if you were there protesting at the State House and regularly read the Globe, the play-by-play wasn't much of a revelation - but the dialogue afterwards was great. I should probably have expected that, seeing as they were all fellows, but there you go. (I got all excitable when one of them asked about the Hollow Hope and almost jumped into the discussion, which gives you some idea of the wonky streak that I keep bottled up inside myself.)
So that was my working lunch, and then I got back, read a couple of essays, and went to the gym, where I killed time on the elliptical by reading Amy Goodloe's "Lesbian Feminism and Queer Theory: Another 'Battle of the Sexes'?" and Sheila Jeffreys' "Queer Theory and Violence Against Women," then handily polished off today's NYT crossword before rowing until my arms stopped working properly. And then I jogged back and showered, made stir-fry, and watched a couple of episodes of Cory in the House over dinner, which felt productive even though it mostly revolved around watching an awful preteen sitcom for this project. I started reading the last two essays and couldn't do it, so I rocked downstairs for a break at Waugh Night and thought aloud about queer theory to friends of mine who did nothing to deserve this, and then came back upstairs recharged by ideas (and a little bourbon and port). And I finished off the last of the 300 pages, and now I feel sufficiently kick-ass again.
So that was my working lunch, and then I got back, read a couple of essays, and went to the gym, where I killed time on the elliptical by reading Amy Goodloe's "Lesbian Feminism and Queer Theory: Another 'Battle of the Sexes'?" and Sheila Jeffreys' "Queer Theory and Violence Against Women," then handily polished off today's NYT crossword before rowing until my arms stopped working properly. And then I jogged back and showered, made stir-fry, and watched a couple of episodes of Cory in the House over dinner, which felt productive even though it mostly revolved around watching an awful preteen sitcom for this project. I started reading the last two essays and couldn't do it, so I rocked downstairs for a break at Waugh Night and thought aloud about queer theory to friends of mine who did nothing to deserve this, and then came back upstairs recharged by ideas (and a little bourbon and port). And I finished off the last of the 300 pages, and now I feel sufficiently kick-ass again.
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Missing Anything?
Yesterday night at LGBTSoc drinks, I was pouring some cocktails, tending some bar, and minding my own business when our outgoing president sidled up next to me and grabbed my arm.
"You are coming to PopTartz."
It was a question, except without a question mark on it.
"Um... yes?"
"Good. Because we need to do the handover ceremony. It's tradition."
I turned from the bar and wiped my hands on my pants. "And what's the tradition, exactly?"
He shrugged. "Mostly poledancing."
I put my foot down, because I'm classy that way. But on the upside, the fact that it was snowy and generally shitty outside meant that everybody (and I mean everybody, for better or for worse) ended up at PopTartz and then refused to leave. It was awesome. And because of that, my early bedtime was gradually pushed back to 2 in the morning. Ironically, the fact that I'm (temporarily) the (acting, interim) president of LGBTSoc means that I'll never be running for public office in my adult life, ever.
And I almost forgot about my early meeting today. Almost.
My alarm went off at 8 and I rocked down to a meeting with just about every important administrator in our college, where they asked me to take minutes and I couldn't very well say no, so I just stayed bent over my notebook, taking hits from my tiny cup of coffee as often as humanly possible. By the time it ended, I was ready for a nap. I collapsed in my room and, as if on cue, my phone lit up with a message from Dan and Dave, who were at OddBins and needed a letter from the MCR authorizing Dan to use the account. And I told them I'd be there ASAP, which is approximately how long it takes to design letterhead from scratch, write a formal sounding letter, run to the computer lab to print and sign it, track down a blank envelope, and run to OddBins to deliver it to our wine-buyers.
And by this point, it was lunchtime, so I met J. for pies at Pieminister (and tried the Wildshroom and Asparagus pie, which will probably not displace the Heidi pie as my all-time favorite, but was still really good). And when that ended, I realized that I had twenty minutes to get up to Banbury Road for a seminar, where I cracked open a can of Diet Coke and collapsed into my chair at the stroke of two. I had one almost insightful thing to say about Marc Bloch, which was actually pretty impressive when you consider that I read the book a week ago and hadn't had time to glance over it before class.
On the way back from the seminar, I got a text from Aaron asking if I was going to tea at Rhodes House and was like, meh, sure! and ended up staying longer than I probably should have. I got back, shucked off my clothes and changed for the gym, did an hour of cardio and a few minutes of rowing, and jogged back to shower. And when I got out, I rapidly got dressed and bounced out the door to meet a friend of mine from the Women's Studies MSt to go to the panel at the Union on positive discrimination, which was good. (I still have no idea what the difference between positive discrimination and affirmative action are, and don't really understand the nuances of the way that each party constructs its shortlists, but still, better than a nap.)
And then we walked to Sainsbury's and I picked up groceries and made dinner (because it was almost 10 at this point), and then I read two chapters of a collection of essays for my thesis because I TOTALLY NEGLECTED THEM for the past 24 hours. I read a whole book yesterday, so I don't feel that bad, but I'm still planning on a cloistered day tomorrow, which will either end with my diligently falling asleep on a pile of books or giving up and going to one of the two things I promised to attend tomorrow night. I figure I get one of these every month or two, and then it's back to things like reading feminist theory on the elliptical and editing journal articles while I eat breakfast.
"You are coming to PopTartz."
It was a question, except without a question mark on it.
"Um... yes?"
"Good. Because we need to do the handover ceremony. It's tradition."
I turned from the bar and wiped my hands on my pants. "And what's the tradition, exactly?"
He shrugged. "Mostly poledancing."
I put my foot down, because I'm classy that way. But on the upside, the fact that it was snowy and generally shitty outside meant that everybody (and I mean everybody, for better or for worse) ended up at PopTartz and then refused to leave. It was awesome. And because of that, my early bedtime was gradually pushed back to 2 in the morning. Ironically, the fact that I'm (temporarily) the (acting, interim) president of LGBTSoc means that I'll never be running for public office in my adult life, ever.
And I almost forgot about my early meeting today. Almost.
My alarm went off at 8 and I rocked down to a meeting with just about every important administrator in our college, where they asked me to take minutes and I couldn't very well say no, so I just stayed bent over my notebook, taking hits from my tiny cup of coffee as often as humanly possible. By the time it ended, I was ready for a nap. I collapsed in my room and, as if on cue, my phone lit up with a message from Dan and Dave, who were at OddBins and needed a letter from the MCR authorizing Dan to use the account. And I told them I'd be there ASAP, which is approximately how long it takes to design letterhead from scratch, write a formal sounding letter, run to the computer lab to print and sign it, track down a blank envelope, and run to OddBins to deliver it to our wine-buyers.
And by this point, it was lunchtime, so I met J. for pies at Pieminister (and tried the Wildshroom and Asparagus pie, which will probably not displace the Heidi pie as my all-time favorite, but was still really good). And when that ended, I realized that I had twenty minutes to get up to Banbury Road for a seminar, where I cracked open a can of Diet Coke and collapsed into my chair at the stroke of two. I had one almost insightful thing to say about Marc Bloch, which was actually pretty impressive when you consider that I read the book a week ago and hadn't had time to glance over it before class.
On the way back from the seminar, I got a text from Aaron asking if I was going to tea at Rhodes House and was like, meh, sure! and ended up staying longer than I probably should have. I got back, shucked off my clothes and changed for the gym, did an hour of cardio and a few minutes of rowing, and jogged back to shower. And when I got out, I rapidly got dressed and bounced out the door to meet a friend of mine from the Women's Studies MSt to go to the panel at the Union on positive discrimination, which was good. (I still have no idea what the difference between positive discrimination and affirmative action are, and don't really understand the nuances of the way that each party constructs its shortlists, but still, better than a nap.)
And then we walked to Sainsbury's and I picked up groceries and made dinner (because it was almost 10 at this point), and then I read two chapters of a collection of essays for my thesis because I TOTALLY NEGLECTED THEM for the past 24 hours. I read a whole book yesterday, so I don't feel that bad, but I'm still planning on a cloistered day tomorrow, which will either end with my diligently falling asleep on a pile of books or giving up and going to one of the two things I promised to attend tomorrow night. I figure I get one of these every month or two, and then it's back to things like reading feminist theory on the elliptical and editing journal articles while I eat breakfast.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
The Eyes Have It
This weekend, I finished watching all 55 episodes of Hannah Montana after two excruciating weeks and sat down to watch Big Fish, which is the first thing I've seen since Friends With Money that has absolutely nothing to do with princess ideology, the commodification and mass-marketing of female adolescence, or the Disney Channel.
If you haven't seen it, it's great. I was just sort of passively watching and enjoying it, and then all of a sudden, I did a double-take and could have sworn that the little girl in the group of kids hiking down to the swamp to steal the witch's glass eye was a very young Miley Cyrus. I tensed up and blinked a couple of times, but they didn't really show her again in the film and I couldn't tell if I was very perceptive or slowly going insane. And I didn't want to pipe up and ask if anyone else had just seen Hannah Montana hiding in the swamp, because that's a question that doesn't really have a good answer.
But I thought about this apropos of nothing this afternoon and checked IMDB, and lo, it is totally Miley Cyrus - billed at the time as "Destiny Cyrus," before she got famous enough to stop crawling around in muck and stealing body parts from old women and became a carefully pre-packaged pop culture phenomenon. And now I feel less crazy.
If you haven't seen it, it's great. I was just sort of passively watching and enjoying it, and then all of a sudden, I did a double-take and could have sworn that the little girl in the group of kids hiking down to the swamp to steal the witch's glass eye was a very young Miley Cyrus. I tensed up and blinked a couple of times, but they didn't really show her again in the film and I couldn't tell if I was very perceptive or slowly going insane. And I didn't want to pipe up and ask if anyone else had just seen Hannah Montana hiding in the swamp, because that's a question that doesn't really have a good answer.
But I thought about this apropos of nothing this afternoon and checked IMDB, and lo, it is totally Miley Cyrus - billed at the time as "Destiny Cyrus," before she got famous enough to stop crawling around in muck and stealing body parts from old women and became a carefully pre-packaged pop culture phenomenon. And now I feel less crazy.
Monday, 27 October 2008
Housewife
Chase sent this to me like a month ago, but I'm just putting it up because a) I've been on a domestic streak lately, and b) I just bought the entirety of Jay Brannan's album on iTunes (and Red Letter Year and Acid Tongue), thereby defeating the purpose of my birthday list.
(Also, c) the video is totally fucking adorable.)
Any Questions?
"The discussion of camp, authenticity and gay porn in Australia draws attention to the fact that queers' relationship to nationalism is not merely one of rejection and exclusion."
- Jon Binnie, The Globalization of Sexuality
And this is why I study what I study.
- Jon Binnie, The Globalization of Sexuality
And this is why I study what I study.
Saturday, 25 October 2008
The [Drawbacks] of Being a Wallflower
It's been a crazy week (starting my thesis, finishing start-of-term MCR stuff, accidentally becoming LGBTSoc president, etc., etc.), so I've been mostly AWOL from my computer and using my spare time to catch up with, you know, tangible people. Like today, when I grabbed coffee with Leslie at Blackwell's and we went to Sainsbury's afterward. She convinced me to get cod filets for dinner, and it was the closest I've come to setting my kitchen on fire.
The downside with all this socializing is that I'm feeling hella behind on my thesis, and that (and not being able to put down Julia Serano's Whipping Girl, which I'm in danger of reading until I finish it tonight) means that I decided to be lame and hibernate for the evening. I did this without realizing that the rowers were having cocktails downstairs, and that I'd basically be barricading myself against loud music, a thick fog of gin and sweat, and an army of undergrads who seem to spill more than they drink. It's times like these when it's nice to have two thick doors to your room.
When it's not nice is when you decide to take your contacts out, open both doors, and find two undergrads fucking on your doorstep. My room is the only one on the top floor, and it's just my door directly across from a windowsill. When I walked out, there was a girl sitting on my windowsill, and a guy standing in front of her with his back to me and his pants around his ankles. The guy turned his head and said, "oh, fuck" and I blushed and covered my eyes with one hand, and then he said, "dude, in or out!" and I panicked and thought, "in, in!" and ran back into my room and slammed the door. I took a deep breath, and then I was like, wait a minute, what? So I went back out and they were still at it, and the guy cursed again, and I was like, "I live here, and stop fucking on my landing," and padded down to my bathroom. But they were actually pretty apologetic when I passed them on the way back up, and didn't make too much of a mess except for a gigantic moat of gin in front of my door. It was pretty innocuous, and they were actually lucky that I'm not in a dry spell, or I might have just pushed them both out the window.
I sympathize, but seriously, kids. This is why public toilets and poorly-lit parks were invented.
The downside with all this socializing is that I'm feeling hella behind on my thesis, and that (and not being able to put down Julia Serano's Whipping Girl, which I'm in danger of reading until I finish it tonight) means that I decided to be lame and hibernate for the evening. I did this without realizing that the rowers were having cocktails downstairs, and that I'd basically be barricading myself against loud music, a thick fog of gin and sweat, and an army of undergrads who seem to spill more than they drink. It's times like these when it's nice to have two thick doors to your room.
When it's not nice is when you decide to take your contacts out, open both doors, and find two undergrads fucking on your doorstep. My room is the only one on the top floor, and it's just my door directly across from a windowsill. When I walked out, there was a girl sitting on my windowsill, and a guy standing in front of her with his back to me and his pants around his ankles. The guy turned his head and said, "oh, fuck" and I blushed and covered my eyes with one hand, and then he said, "dude, in or out!" and I panicked and thought, "in, in!" and ran back into my room and slammed the door. I took a deep breath, and then I was like, wait a minute, what? So I went back out and they were still at it, and the guy cursed again, and I was like, "I live here, and stop fucking on my landing," and padded down to my bathroom. But they were actually pretty apologetic when I passed them on the way back up, and didn't make too much of a mess except for a gigantic moat of gin in front of my door. It was pretty innocuous, and they were actually lucky that I'm not in a dry spell, or I might have just pushed them both out the window.
I sympathize, but seriously, kids. This is why public toilets and poorly-lit parks were invented.
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