Spam, Eggs, Sausage, and Spam
Largely uneventful things that happened over the weekend, and today:
1.) I made cookies, and duokinneas may have some if they will make up for my calling her Squeaky, which I totally did not mean in a mean-spirited way but which she seems to not like.
1a.) SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA YAY YAY YAY
1b.) We opened a box of tea my grandmother gave us when we were in Florida. m0mmy gets stuck with a lot of fruity tea and/or Lipton when office/church Christmas gift exchanges roll around, because people know she likes tea. m0mmy's definition of "tea" is highly specific, however, and should be understood in the sense of "black tea which is marked PRODUCT OF GREAT BRITAIN". The stuff my grandmother gave us, however, is perfectly regular serviceable black tea which will not kill teh m0mmy if she gets it in her digestive tract by accident. Hurrah!
2.) You wouldn't think I'd find a book about Japan in World War II, or a book about Japan period, difficult to get into, but I'm just mired down in The Rising Sun by John Toland. I wonder if it's because World War II is more or less outside my era of interest (it is totally my father's thing, however), but my covenant with reading too much demands that I finish it.
3.) I attempted to kickbox, and got about half an hour's worth of exercise out of it, but should really start with Exercise For The Stubbornly Unfit and/or stick to walking and swimming. Like most Americans of a certain age, I was made to cavort in gym class for the sadistic edification of my more athletic peers. The only reason I did not take more crap for this was twofold:
a.) I was "smart", which is what we call anyone with a three-digit IQ, and I suppose by some objective standards I am smart but the truth is that I just assume everyone thinks like me because it's easier
b.) I was am mean.
On the plus side, a hot bikini-clad chick said Hi to me in the locker room. This was probably because I resemble someone she knows and not for my own sake, though.
3a.) I discovered an almost-untouched stick of Old Spice (laugh it up, duokinneas ^_-) in my gym bag, and now can put off going to the store for more deodorant, though not for much longer.
4.) I yabbered pointlessly at m0mmy about eighteenth-century English literature and the othering of Roman Catholics, and yes I did use that exact phrase. The Other is kind of a fascinating topic for me; unlike most women and other female-bodied people, I'm hard-wired to look for differences rather than similarities. This isn't inherently a bad thing, nor is it inherently bad that other women and other female-bodied people look for similarities, though it creates some very interesting minor-league clashes of manners and misunderstandings about what is and isn't appropriate to discuss.
Anyway, I was fagging on about the othering of Catholics in English gothic novels of the eighteenth/nineteenth centuries, and then I started fagging on about how othering depends on what the dominant perspective is and who's doing the othering and who is the other. This segued, hamfistedly, into how of course non-Catholics with little to no understanding of our creed and the unique social pressures on us, some of which are not present for Protestants, are going to read entering a convent as a romantic gesture. (It may have been, for some young women. More likely, it was the offshoot of a genuine vocation, or not knowing what else to do with oneself given the limited options for women at that time. In Ireland, or at least in the part of Ireland from which my mother's family came, the custom was for the oldest daughter of a large family to make a good marriage, and at least some of the others would often enter a convent, because it relieved the family of the obligation of supporting them, though nobody was ever going to 'fess up to this, because it doesn't sound very pious.)
But the othering tables can be turned, too; because I'm culturally Catholic, Protestants are the Other for me, and my reaction to Protestantism tends to consist of fascination and distaste at the same time. For me, the marker isn't that I'm not a Protestant; it's that someone else is. (This should not, btw, be misconstrued to mean that I hate Protestants as a group or think they're going to Hell; I don't, and I am no longer theologically Christian so not really interested in their eschatology or the question of who goes to Hell, and it's not like that's my decision to make anyway. However, I had very limited exposure to other denominations of Christianity when I was growing up, and when I interrogate Christianity or Christian theology at all--something I do less and less these days--it tends to be from a Catholic perspective, and usually from a progressive Catholic perspective because that was how the Faith played out in my house when I was growing up.
I do have some beefs with individual Protestants, but that's got more to do with their behavior than their beliefs, stated or actual.)
T3h n0v3l does play with othering, I think, but hopefully in a more articulate and less ham-fisted manner than me burbling senselessly at my mother.
5.) Callice has been wailing at me about HER FROSTBITE, SHE SHOWS ME IT. This would make sense if she were not covered in fur. About this time of year, she switches from the howl that means STARVING to the one that means FREEZING.
6.) Tee hee, I think Comrade Trotsky is dreamy.
7.) I think that last statement is a sign that going to bed about now would be a good idea.
1.) I made cookies, and duokinneas may have some if they will make up for my calling her Squeaky, which I totally did not mean in a mean-spirited way but which she seems to not like.
1a.) SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA SHELLS STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND RICOTTA YAY YAY YAY
1b.) We opened a box of tea my grandmother gave us when we were in Florida. m0mmy gets stuck with a lot of fruity tea and/or Lipton when office/church Christmas gift exchanges roll around, because people know she likes tea. m0mmy's definition of "tea" is highly specific, however, and should be understood in the sense of "black tea which is marked PRODUCT OF GREAT BRITAIN". The stuff my grandmother gave us, however, is perfectly regular serviceable black tea which will not kill teh m0mmy if she gets it in her digestive tract by accident. Hurrah!
2.) You wouldn't think I'd find a book about Japan in World War II, or a book about Japan period, difficult to get into, but I'm just mired down in The Rising Sun by John Toland. I wonder if it's because World War II is more or less outside my era of interest (it is totally my father's thing, however), but my covenant with reading too much demands that I finish it.
3.) I attempted to kickbox, and got about half an hour's worth of exercise out of it, but should really start with Exercise For The Stubbornly Unfit and/or stick to walking and swimming. Like most Americans of a certain age, I was made to cavort in gym class for the sadistic edification of my more athletic peers. The only reason I did not take more crap for this was twofold:
a.) I was "smart", which is what we call anyone with a three-digit IQ, and I suppose by some objective standards I am smart but the truth is that I just assume everyone thinks like me because it's easier
b.) I was am mean.
On the plus side, a hot bikini-clad chick said Hi to me in the locker room. This was probably because I resemble someone she knows and not for my own sake, though.
3a.) I discovered an almost-untouched stick of Old Spice (laugh it up, duokinneas ^_-) in my gym bag, and now can put off going to the store for more deodorant, though not for much longer.
4.) I yabbered pointlessly at m0mmy about eighteenth-century English literature and the othering of Roman Catholics, and yes I did use that exact phrase. The Other is kind of a fascinating topic for me; unlike most women and other female-bodied people, I'm hard-wired to look for differences rather than similarities. This isn't inherently a bad thing, nor is it inherently bad that other women and other female-bodied people look for similarities, though it creates some very interesting minor-league clashes of manners and misunderstandings about what is and isn't appropriate to discuss.
Anyway, I was fagging on about the othering of Catholics in English gothic novels of the eighteenth/nineteenth centuries, and then I started fagging on about how othering depends on what the dominant perspective is and who's doing the othering and who is the other. This segued, hamfistedly, into how of course non-Catholics with little to no understanding of our creed and the unique social pressures on us, some of which are not present for Protestants, are going to read entering a convent as a romantic gesture. (It may have been, for some young women. More likely, it was the offshoot of a genuine vocation, or not knowing what else to do with oneself given the limited options for women at that time. In Ireland, or at least in the part of Ireland from which my mother's family came, the custom was for the oldest daughter of a large family to make a good marriage, and at least some of the others would often enter a convent, because it relieved the family of the obligation of supporting them, though nobody was ever going to 'fess up to this, because it doesn't sound very pious.)
But the othering tables can be turned, too; because I'm culturally Catholic, Protestants are the Other for me, and my reaction to Protestantism tends to consist of fascination and distaste at the same time. For me, the marker isn't that I'm not a Protestant; it's that someone else is. (This should not, btw, be misconstrued to mean that I hate Protestants as a group or think they're going to Hell; I don't, and I am no longer theologically Christian so not really interested in their eschatology or the question of who goes to Hell, and it's not like that's my decision to make anyway. However, I had very limited exposure to other denominations of Christianity when I was growing up, and when I interrogate Christianity or Christian theology at all--something I do less and less these days--it tends to be from a Catholic perspective, and usually from a progressive Catholic perspective because that was how the Faith played out in my house when I was growing up.
I do have some beefs with individual Protestants, but that's got more to do with their behavior than their beliefs, stated or actual.)
T3h n0v3l does play with othering, I think, but hopefully in a more articulate and less ham-fisted manner than me burbling senselessly at my mother.
5.) Callice has been wailing at me about HER FROSTBITE, SHE SHOWS ME IT. This would make sense if she were not covered in fur. About this time of year, she switches from the howl that means STARVING to the one that means FREEZING.
6.) Tee hee, I think Comrade Trotsky is dreamy.
7.) I think that last statement is a sign that going to bed about now would be a good idea.