(no subject)
Done with Reading Lolita in Tehran tonight - I'm glad I didn't spend more than 5 days on it, or a week or two discussing it for a class, because had I at any point in this week actually broken through the recurrent impression in my mind that these accounts couldn't be real, not literally real in the real world, I may have cut work and stayed in bed all day. And that wouldn't have done anybody any good.
Gonna pick up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies tomorrow, because I can only go so long without something pertaining to the living dead. Without actually premeditating it - I bought this book weeks before I borrowed Reading Lolita on impulse Saturday - I have managed to transition from the final unifying text of Nafisi's memoirs to the actual story, altered though it is by way of genre mash-up.
Between tonight and tomorrow I'm fleshing out online applications, and a significant portion of tomorrow I'll spend coming up with artist's statements and statements of intent and all kinds of statements really. And I find I am actually starting to enjoy it, because unlike in my undergrad days, I am stating things that really matter to me. On the road to my BA I was good at stating the things I thought could matter in appropriately ambiguous ways; I was terrified of my not having answers, of not being big enough for the privileged lot I seemed to have fallen into. And those fears still seize me at times. Real inopportune times, of course. If I could start having panic attacks AFTER big-n-scary life decisions or start tripping over my own phrases and babbling like a miseducated twit AFTER conversing with a dazzlingly intelligent & erudite friend, that would be peachy fuckin' keen. Mais, c'est la vie.
As much as the French are lampooned and caricatured as embittered misanthropes, I much prefer that sentiment to the Japanese analogue moshiagenai and its variants. They're so Who is John Galt?
Hmmm, hello 9:30. Goodbye imaginary dinner. Guess it's a graze-on-fruit-and-crackers kinda day. Yes, sometimes I am a macaw.
Entranced By: "Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing" ~Amanda Palmer
Gonna pick up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies tomorrow, because I can only go so long without something pertaining to the living dead. Without actually premeditating it - I bought this book weeks before I borrowed Reading Lolita on impulse Saturday - I have managed to transition from the final unifying text of Nafisi's memoirs to the actual story, altered though it is by way of genre mash-up.
Between tonight and tomorrow I'm fleshing out online applications, and a significant portion of tomorrow I'll spend coming up with artist's statements and statements of intent and all kinds of statements really. And I find I am actually starting to enjoy it, because unlike in my undergrad days, I am stating things that really matter to me. On the road to my BA I was good at stating the things I thought could matter in appropriately ambiguous ways; I was terrified of my not having answers, of not being big enough for the privileged lot I seemed to have fallen into. And those fears still seize me at times. Real inopportune times, of course. If I could start having panic attacks AFTER big-n-scary life decisions or start tripping over my own phrases and babbling like a miseducated twit AFTER conversing with a dazzlingly intelligent & erudite friend, that would be peachy fuckin' keen. Mais, c'est la vie.
As much as the French are lampooned and caricatured as embittered misanthropes, I much prefer that sentiment to the Japanese analogue moshiagenai and its variants. They're so Who is John Galt?
Hmmm, hello 9:30. Goodbye imaginary dinner. Guess it's a graze-on-fruit-and-crackers kinda day. Yes, sometimes I am a macaw.
Entranced By: "Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing" ~Amanda Palmer