There's A Thing Called Having a Life?
Could really be good at this hermit thing I've got going. I read (currently more Bolaño than American History), eat, drink litres of water, play some PS3, play with the monster dog, post the occasional update on Facebook on my lack of academic prowess, eat some more. And I have a face mask I need to get rid of, so by the end of the exam period, I'll hopefully have really great skin.
Can't bring myself to read The Original of Laura edition I have, it's too pretty to spoil. I'll wait for a paperback, or it to go on sale and buy a second one. We partied ridiculously on Saturday: too drunk, too tired to do much, enough booze and coffee to stay up all night. We did stay up far too long, I think we slept a collective half hour. At some point I held court in bed, I think I was fully clothed, or hope I was. Very heart-felt conversations with lovely people, and then a pathetic discussion with a very nerdy boy of 14 (I don't think he was 14, he might have been 16, or 18, even) about discipline. He could not argue to save his drunken hide, so I promptly informed him that he could return to talk to me when he had learned to think. Harr, harr. We had far too much fun with scathing remarks, and I was in horrific form from having bitten my tongue for weeks. It ended in a cuddle-fest of a naschpiel. Everyone piled into bed, and got up hungover and miserable a few sleepless hours later, with sprained arms and stiff necks.
*Naschpiel, a word for after-party. Alcohol and coffee pre-requisites, sofas and good music almost as crucial.
A course called 'Homotextuality in Literature', encompassing basic queer theory and GLBT history, has had me puzzled throug the course of the semester.
I've struggled to come to terms with what it really is. What is the purpose? And been bothered by much of the discourse I've encountered that is inherently anti-heterosexual, as opposed to anti-heterosexist. They pity me because I cannot stand back and pity myself, because I am not queer, lesbian, bisexual, transsexual, anything but the dreaded heterosexual. Not only am I heterosexual, I am notoriously heterosexual (a term borrowed from Adrienne Rich, I think, it stuck and fits me very well); in love with the vile charms of the opposite sex.
As I've tried to prepare for the written exam, I drew the parallel to post-colonialism. I read an article about how the GLBT movement has always tried to create a language encompassing not only words, but gestures, clothes and history, of their own. (Vicinius, I think.) Creating a history that is at once their own, and not at odds with the actuality of history. 'Gay' is not a historical entity, desire of the same sex is. Much like the post-colonialists, who re-write history and create a culture of their own to deal with their identity crisis. The GLBT community deals with creating an identity and a community that co-exists with the heterosexual mainstream, but encompasses an identity that is not defined by a shared polarity: heterosexual is what homosexual is not, homosexual what heterosexual is not.
And, as luck would have it, one of the questions on the exam was, 'Describe Queer theory in your own words'. I mentally patted myself on the back and wrote in a red-cheeked flurry.
Can't bring myself to read The Original of Laura edition I have, it's too pretty to spoil. I'll wait for a paperback, or it to go on sale and buy a second one. We partied ridiculously on Saturday: too drunk, too tired to do much, enough booze and coffee to stay up all night. We did stay up far too long, I think we slept a collective half hour. At some point I held court in bed, I think I was fully clothed, or hope I was. Very heart-felt conversations with lovely people, and then a pathetic discussion with a very nerdy boy of 14 (I don't think he was 14, he might have been 16, or 18, even) about discipline. He could not argue to save his drunken hide, so I promptly informed him that he could return to talk to me when he had learned to think. Harr, harr. We had far too much fun with scathing remarks, and I was in horrific form from having bitten my tongue for weeks. It ended in a cuddle-fest of a naschpiel. Everyone piled into bed, and got up hungover and miserable a few sleepless hours later, with sprained arms and stiff necks.
*Naschpiel, a word for after-party. Alcohol and coffee pre-requisites, sofas and good music almost as crucial.
A course called 'Homotextuality in Literature', encompassing basic queer theory and GLBT history, has had me puzzled throug the course of the semester.
I've struggled to come to terms with what it really is. What is the purpose? And been bothered by much of the discourse I've encountered that is inherently anti-heterosexual, as opposed to anti-heterosexist. They pity me because I cannot stand back and pity myself, because I am not queer, lesbian, bisexual, transsexual, anything but the dreaded heterosexual. Not only am I heterosexual, I am notoriously heterosexual (a term borrowed from Adrienne Rich, I think, it stuck and fits me very well); in love with the vile charms of the opposite sex.
As I've tried to prepare for the written exam, I drew the parallel to post-colonialism. I read an article about how the GLBT movement has always tried to create a language encompassing not only words, but gestures, clothes and history, of their own. (Vicinius, I think.) Creating a history that is at once their own, and not at odds with the actuality of history. 'Gay' is not a historical entity, desire of the same sex is. Much like the post-colonialists, who re-write history and create a culture of their own to deal with their identity crisis. The GLBT community deals with creating an identity and a community that co-exists with the heterosexual mainstream, but encompasses an identity that is not defined by a shared polarity: heterosexual is what homosexual is not, homosexual what heterosexual is not.
And, as luck would have it, one of the questions on the exam was, 'Describe Queer theory in your own words'. I mentally patted myself on the back and wrote in a red-cheeked flurry.