Epiphany for a wild rebellious horse
I started the laundry at 9:15 this evening. I expect I will be done folding around 11:15, Lord willing and the washer behaves. I got out on my appointed rounds at 10 or so. First stop was the Sedro Woolley library to drop off the 12 books I borrowed. I don't hate Hazel Holt or Donna Leon, but I am not ecstatic either and I can access books by both of them online, so why keep hard copies around the house. Next stop was the grocery store. I stocked up on beverages.
I'm feeling better since doubling my Citalopram a couple of weeks ago. I need to get in touch with my doctors to get my prescription changed. I think I need to notify the doctor tomorrow so that I can get some action before my expected renewal on the 25th.
Looking back I only wish I could have gotten my brother on citalopram, but it might not have worked with his other meds. I wish my sister would start taking it. Either that or welbutrin, something like that. It would be a lot easier on Dan if she weren't so combative, I'm sure. I hope she gets it and asks for the generic.
On a whim, I wound up looking up A.S. Byatt in the Wikipedia. It was probably because I had seen a review of Margaret Drabble's new book that was reviewed in the New York Times. After I read a few articles more about Byatt, I gave Drabble the same treatment. I found some of their most well-known books available at the Open Library, so that's a possible avenue to explore.
It was interesting to compare and contrast the sisters. Susan was shy. Margaret far more outgoing and less conflicted. I suspect that Susan bore the brunt of her mother's academic frustration. Women do not always realize how much an academic career costs in emotional terms. And also the unacknowledged condescension that women experienced in the academic world when I was attending the university. And of course, the difficult choices that female students and faculty faced. Always carrying the burden of responsibilities in their personal lives.
I wonder what my academic life might have been like if I had not attended commuter colleges for almost the whole of it. Of course, there was the fellowship at the University of Wisconsin, but I was so habituated to the presence of my parents, I feel that I got separation the whole time. I never really took the opportunity to make school friends because of my shyness. I always went back to my comfort zone. Smart witty parents who enjoyed my company, but gave me my space because they enjoyed theirs too.
I also read an article about George Washington's slave ownership. When he moved to Pennsylvania, a state that had a phased in abolition law, he took advantage of loopholes in the law to hang onto his slaves. The law was that slaves who lived in the state for more than six months were automatically freed. So guess who sent his slaves across the state line for a little trip, then brought them back for another 6 months of slavery? By George, what a father of his country! And then if the slave reached the age of 28, they were also automatically freed! Hallelujah! Uh, not so fast there. They could be gifted to an owner in another state! Well, one female slave ran away from the fabulous Washington family and was never recaptured despite the $10 reward for her return.
I am not quite sure where I saw this article. It might have been in the Washington Post or the NYT. It was interesting to read about slave owners reactions to their lazy slaves. So, they hired overseers. The darkies would goof off and laze about when the Masters left. And what a shameful thing that was!
What some slave owners thought of as laziness, many enslaved people thought of as resistance. Resistance! La Resistance! Underachiever and Proud of it! Thank you, Matt Groening for your child hero, the irrepressible Bart Simpson.
That reminded me of the horses that people call lazy. And students who are called lazy. Anyone who is called lazy. And my own repugnance and dislike of the academic pecking order at the time and the lack of real outlets for creativity.
It was my small personal rebellion. Though there might have been intellectual fun to be had, it would have taken place in that damned stupid ivory tower, writing novels about people who fritter their lives away writing academic studies. It just seemed stupid and frivolous. Literary criticism. God, what a pathetic life.
I can see now some of the reasons why my mother quit Mundelein College and also The Art Institute of Chicago after three years. Defeating expectations at every turn. Wanting a life that meant something. Female underachiever and proud of it. Strong protective loving mother and wife. She had seen cruelty, prejudice and economic injustice. I think she tried to raise her children to be saints. In all our weakness and failings, there is still that. A quite strong sense of what is true, what is fair, what is beautiful, what is merciful, what is kind and what isn't.
She would have wanted to go door to door to defeat Trump in the election. Love you, mama. Vive la Resistance!
I'm feeling better since doubling my Citalopram a couple of weeks ago. I need to get in touch with my doctors to get my prescription changed. I think I need to notify the doctor tomorrow so that I can get some action before my expected renewal on the 25th.
Looking back I only wish I could have gotten my brother on citalopram, but it might not have worked with his other meds. I wish my sister would start taking it. Either that or welbutrin, something like that. It would be a lot easier on Dan if she weren't so combative, I'm sure. I hope she gets it and asks for the generic.
On a whim, I wound up looking up A.S. Byatt in the Wikipedia. It was probably because I had seen a review of Margaret Drabble's new book that was reviewed in the New York Times. After I read a few articles more about Byatt, I gave Drabble the same treatment. I found some of their most well-known books available at the Open Library, so that's a possible avenue to explore.
It was interesting to compare and contrast the sisters. Susan was shy. Margaret far more outgoing and less conflicted. I suspect that Susan bore the brunt of her mother's academic frustration. Women do not always realize how much an academic career costs in emotional terms. And also the unacknowledged condescension that women experienced in the academic world when I was attending the university. And of course, the difficult choices that female students and faculty faced. Always carrying the burden of responsibilities in their personal lives.
I wonder what my academic life might have been like if I had not attended commuter colleges for almost the whole of it. Of course, there was the fellowship at the University of Wisconsin, but I was so habituated to the presence of my parents, I feel that I got separation the whole time. I never really took the opportunity to make school friends because of my shyness. I always went back to my comfort zone. Smart witty parents who enjoyed my company, but gave me my space because they enjoyed theirs too.
I also read an article about George Washington's slave ownership. When he moved to Pennsylvania, a state that had a phased in abolition law, he took advantage of loopholes in the law to hang onto his slaves. The law was that slaves who lived in the state for more than six months were automatically freed. So guess who sent his slaves across the state line for a little trip, then brought them back for another 6 months of slavery? By George, what a father of his country! And then if the slave reached the age of 28, they were also automatically freed! Hallelujah! Uh, not so fast there. They could be gifted to an owner in another state! Well, one female slave ran away from the fabulous Washington family and was never recaptured despite the $10 reward for her return.
I am not quite sure where I saw this article. It might have been in the Washington Post or the NYT. It was interesting to read about slave owners reactions to their lazy slaves. So, they hired overseers. The darkies would goof off and laze about when the Masters left. And what a shameful thing that was!
What some slave owners thought of as laziness, many enslaved people thought of as resistance. Resistance! La Resistance! Underachiever and Proud of it! Thank you, Matt Groening for your child hero, the irrepressible Bart Simpson.
That reminded me of the horses that people call lazy. And students who are called lazy. Anyone who is called lazy. And my own repugnance and dislike of the academic pecking order at the time and the lack of real outlets for creativity.
It was my small personal rebellion. Though there might have been intellectual fun to be had, it would have taken place in that damned stupid ivory tower, writing novels about people who fritter their lives away writing academic studies. It just seemed stupid and frivolous. Literary criticism. God, what a pathetic life.
I can see now some of the reasons why my mother quit Mundelein College and also The Art Institute of Chicago after three years. Defeating expectations at every turn. Wanting a life that meant something. Female underachiever and proud of it. Strong protective loving mother and wife. She had seen cruelty, prejudice and economic injustice. I think she tried to raise her children to be saints. In all our weakness and failings, there is still that. A quite strong sense of what is true, what is fair, what is beautiful, what is merciful, what is kind and what isn't.
She would have wanted to go door to door to defeat Trump in the election. Love you, mama. Vive la Resistance!