Randomness of today
I set my alarm for 9.00 and woke up at 10.06, this was bad as I had a meeting scheduled at 10. I ran downstairs, through to the college office and was told to wait in reception, looking like some complete ming-rat. My hair was all over the place, I had eyeliner all around my eyes, but none where it was supposed to be. Fortunately Carol was late(r than me), so I sat listening to Antony & the Johnsons on my v3i, wondering if the bursar would ever get back to me about my residency fees. Apparently not. Carol just wanted to see I was alive; I was by this time, having managed to wipe my eyes on my shirt and remove bed-creases from my face by doing a variety of facial movements. Some passing rahs were not impressed. To be honest, I wasn't impressed with them either. There's something about a short girl in skirt-meets-riding-boot condition that makes me want to scream. "Did mother never teach you to dress?", I think in a somewhat home-counties accent; actually, I guess that's the problem, she probably did; adorned with pearl necklaces and tiaras from the age of three.
Sigh, so then back to my room, craving cigarettes but having none, so deciding to have a shower instead. Something wondeful about a hot shower. I then recieved a txt from Hannah bemoaning her High-Digger status (Heidegger for ye uninitiated), and claiming to be in the union: I took this to be fact, straightened my hair, applied some lip-gloss as it was windy and I've had dry lips for a few days, and proceeded thence, stopping off to buy some Marlboros on the way. I resisted alcohol, much to my, now, dismay.
Quick puff in the union, followed by a trip to the Tourist Information Centre to pick up tickets for a night of English Classical music in Durham cathedral; the programme looked quite good really. We were served by a Barbie Doll, too much make-up and too much peroxide; definitely not a rah.
Then to Hide, coffee-stop of choice, full of pretention; academics in rags and students in Vivienne Westwood; I spotted a coat. Alas, however, they are now too cool for cigarettes; every table adorned with "this is a no smoking area". Cue two trips to the door for a few lung-fulls whilst Hannah amused herself somehow. Being neither telepathic, nor having X-ray vision, I have no idea.
Poor Hannah probably wondered what had hit her; a plethora of drivel spewed forth like a cascading, cascading-thing, I blame the two mochas on an empty stomach and the fact she's very easy to talk to. She also offers sound advice. But still, poor girl.
We had a somewhat intellectual conversation, Philosophy mainly, in which social constructionism vs. biology was discussed with reference to "gayness" (terrible term). Hannah and I are at different ends of the spectrum; I think it's mainly biological, she thinks it's purely a social construct. We then moved onto Nicomachean Ethics, with my lovely description of a good human-being being a human-being that fulfils all the functions of a human-being (too many beings). Like a table is a good table because it suports things, an eye is a good eye because it sees things etc. A human being is good because it functions how a human being ought to. Everything else is essentially superfluous. [edit: although, surely what is considered to be human is a social construct, n'est pas?]. Like it matters much anyway, I'm gay, she's gay, we're both happy, sometimes definitions and analyses are bad. First time in an age that I've dared venture an opinion without fear of reprisal, so that was good, and hopefully, between ramblings I made some sense. At one point, I even thought "if only my parents could hear me now, they'd be so proud of their well-bought education".
May have to look up some modern interpretations of Plato's Phaedrus, they sounded fun.
So, three hours later, and be-calmed by pineapple juice, we left - Hannah in her haste deciding the bill was superfluous, and ventured to Waitrose where many vegetables and things of a vegetarian nature were bought: something about needing to eat two jars of relish; what this relish contained, I am very unsure, but am told it goes well with celery, although one must never eat celery in the streets of Durham or you receive strange looks.
From Waitrose to Mary's (the college of said Saint) along the riverbank; I was useful and manly and carried shopping, plus I like the riverside walk. Hannah picked up her E-bay package: a fabulous whale bone corset which was stunning, and I picked up next year's module list. I'm so doing Akkadian from scratch! Thence I returned here, and decided to comment rather vociferously on my day.
Now Chris is asking me to go to Powerhouse to pull boys...so tempting. ARRRRRRRGH!!
Sigh, so then back to my room, craving cigarettes but having none, so deciding to have a shower instead. Something wondeful about a hot shower. I then recieved a txt from Hannah bemoaning her High-Digger status (Heidegger for ye uninitiated), and claiming to be in the union: I took this to be fact, straightened my hair, applied some lip-gloss as it was windy and I've had dry lips for a few days, and proceeded thence, stopping off to buy some Marlboros on the way. I resisted alcohol, much to my, now, dismay.
Quick puff in the union, followed by a trip to the Tourist Information Centre to pick up tickets for a night of English Classical music in Durham cathedral; the programme looked quite good really. We were served by a Barbie Doll, too much make-up and too much peroxide; definitely not a rah.
Then to Hide, coffee-stop of choice, full of pretention; academics in rags and students in Vivienne Westwood; I spotted a coat. Alas, however, they are now too cool for cigarettes; every table adorned with "this is a no smoking area". Cue two trips to the door for a few lung-fulls whilst Hannah amused herself somehow. Being neither telepathic, nor having X-ray vision, I have no idea.
Poor Hannah probably wondered what had hit her; a plethora of drivel spewed forth like a cascading, cascading-thing, I blame the two mochas on an empty stomach and the fact she's very easy to talk to. She also offers sound advice. But still, poor girl.
We had a somewhat intellectual conversation, Philosophy mainly, in which social constructionism vs. biology was discussed with reference to "gayness" (terrible term). Hannah and I are at different ends of the spectrum; I think it's mainly biological, she thinks it's purely a social construct. We then moved onto Nicomachean Ethics, with my lovely description of a good human-being being a human-being that fulfils all the functions of a human-being (too many beings). Like a table is a good table because it suports things, an eye is a good eye because it sees things etc. A human being is good because it functions how a human being ought to. Everything else is essentially superfluous. [edit: although, surely what is considered to be human is a social construct, n'est pas?]. Like it matters much anyway, I'm gay, she's gay, we're both happy, sometimes definitions and analyses are bad. First time in an age that I've dared venture an opinion without fear of reprisal, so that was good, and hopefully, between ramblings I made some sense. At one point, I even thought "if only my parents could hear me now, they'd be so proud of their well-bought education".
May have to look up some modern interpretations of Plato's Phaedrus, they sounded fun.
So, three hours later, and be-calmed by pineapple juice, we left - Hannah in her haste deciding the bill was superfluous, and ventured to Waitrose where many vegetables and things of a vegetarian nature were bought: something about needing to eat two jars of relish; what this relish contained, I am very unsure, but am told it goes well with celery, although one must never eat celery in the streets of Durham or you receive strange looks.
From Waitrose to Mary's (the college of said Saint) along the riverbank; I was useful and manly and carried shopping, plus I like the riverside walk. Hannah picked up her E-bay package: a fabulous whale bone corset which was stunning, and I picked up next year's module list. I'm so doing Akkadian from scratch! Thence I returned here, and decided to comment rather vociferously on my day.
Now Chris is asking me to go to Powerhouse to pull boys...so tempting. ARRRRRRRGH!!