Christmas Spirit?

Us Santa Cruzans traveled the grueling hour and half voyage north, over mountains, past tornadoes and sand storms, through enchanted forests, to the land of H&Ms and spaghetti shacks. You might assume that a shopping trip to S.F. in December would mean I was thinking of my loved ones who would soon benefit from my money spending. But, no, this trip was mostly selfish. Or, kind of. I didn't actually buy that much -- a sweater for David (it's true, he is a loved one), and some other crap for me. Mostly, however, this trip was for hanging out. Dave was helping S. prep a room in his house for painting, while the rest of us walked through Hayes Valley, looking at things we couldn't afford. But what's all this about a "spaghetti shack"? Well seven of us squeezed into this hip little joint in the mission and ate some pasta T-Rex style. The point is, although socializing does tend to exhaust me, this weekend kind of felt like a real vacation. I didn't think about school, or reading books, or grading papers. Nor did Dave. Well done.

and now what?

After a tortuous Friday, when we all got together to enter grades into a computer for 6-1/2 hours, and then had delicious dinner, I'm all done with official school responsibilities. And this means I am totally free to work on my own stuff, unhindered by other worries. How delightful. No excuses.

In other news, I saw *Casino Royale* last night. Eh, I was thinking maybe I'd write down a few thoughts, but I don't really have any. It was a kind of long movie. But, you know, it was fun. That's all I got to say.

View from the back deck:

Not there yet

I've recently managed to eke out yet another version of my QE topic on the space of the room. It still doesn't make sense, which I shamefully admitted in my meeting today with one of my advisors. Why won't it make sense? Cause it's crazy, that's why. I'm talking crazy.
In the meantime, I have a pile -- tho' not too big -- of papers to grade and evals to write by Friday morning. It's not as impossible as it sounds, I just don't want to do it. It's brain-hurting.

Tea-Day

I didn't do shit this weekend. L&C came over on Saturday to watch the Arkansas college football game, which meant we started drinking around 3:30 and didn't stop until 9. Which also led to the pang of guilt I felt the next day about the ways I abuse my body, you know my sacred temple, my vessel of virtue, etc. Solution? I went to the local health food store and bought some Detox tea. That oughta do the trick, no?

Crass Musing of the Day

I don't know if you all are aware of the rampant problem of exposed, shaven celebrity crotches. But L. has opened my eyes to this world where young, sexualized women "innocently" exit their SUVs and simultaneously give us a peek of their privates. I don't really care that they don't wear underwear. I'm just kind of freaked out by how Brazilian everyone is these days. So I'm wondering how the fad of pre-pubescent bush-lessness -- sexualized pre-pubescence, in a word -- relates to the hysteria surrounding child pornography (this issue is esp. out of control in CA.) Seriously, Britney's unmentionable has been haunting me, and it's scary. I'm scared.

T-day

Back from Sacramento where, as every good Thanksgiving should provide, we ate slept and watched TV. And cooed at the baby who, in his still ineffable seven-week stage, acts like any good Thanksgiving participant -- sleeping, eating, pooping. There was more drool than is usually accepted for grown-up T-dayers. But, we allowed it.
Here's the food:


And here's the general reaction:




Unwarranted, in my opinion. I thought the meal was delicious. Cornish Game Hens, Roasted Root Veggies, Stuffing, Salad.

Have I mentioned how much I love thanksgiving? I do! There are no requirements other than an appetite. No songs, no prayers, no mention of swaddling clothes or talking animals. Just food.

TA-day

So, section kinda sucked today. They didn't talk . . . which makes me talk too much. In a not very illuminating fashion. Often, I feel, the students leave more confused than when they arrived.
Then I come home, slightly addled about the silent section, but mostly relieved that it's over. And also annoyingly attached to every word I said, scrutinizing sentences, re-evaluating my performance. So that, of course, after my bus ride home, I run inside to post an email to my students with the insights I wished I'd stunned them with during class. But then after I send that email, I realize that i didn't quite get to everything I wanted to say. which, for a crazy person, would warrant another email. but not me. I'm too cool for that, if you couldn't already tell. Instead I drag my ass to Trader Joe's to buy a cheap bottle of wine or vodka.
This week's section is in the past. My weekend starts Tuesday night!

Antique R.S.

Last weekend, Dave and I took our zombie asses out to San Francisco to unwind for an evening. It was very lovely. My face was a zombie wreck, but we sat back and relaxed and had a great time. The next day, we went to Alameda . . .


i like interiors


dave likes to think


k. thinks antiques are fun

Woman or Mechanized Female Non-Being?

I've been feeling like a humanoid lately. It has become more and more difficult to believe that I am actually capable of having a normal conversation, light and funny, with people. So I start to think about times in the not too distant past when I would laugh and make other people laugh. Now, I'm not a very warm or friendly person . . . it's true. I'm kinda prickly. But, once I get to know ya, I'm a fucking laugh a minute.

Of course, none of this is entirely true. I'm neither that prickly nor that funny.

But it is true that I am becoming a humanoid. Or a zombie that wants to eat brains. Delicious brains.

Yesterday was Thursday . . .

And a friend and I drove up to Stanford to hear Fran Dolan give a lecture on the discourse of marriage -- based upon Pre-Modern figures of "the rod" and "the breeches -- and the fiction of equality that is sustained only by the obscured presence of the servant or slave upon whom domestic violence is displaced. It was a really nice lecture, and she was so animated and funny that I didn't mind missing most of the ball game. I really need to go out and see more lectures outside my own areas of interest. Broaden your mind, kids. So important. (silence)

Anyway -- that ball game! what a fucking game! I was petrified the last half inning. But it all turned out okay. The Cardinals are moving on to the World Series. Don't fret about things that will end up turning out okay, kids. So important.

Truck, Truck, Goose

weekend update

I spent the weekend doing nothing much in particular.
I started it off with a yen to spend. So I bought an overpriced sweatshirt: great color, great cut makes it worth it in my book. And then I splurged at the Gap, despite my avowed disinterest in their products. Jeans, two shirts.
We ended the weekend with an afternoon flic: The Science of Sleep. It was what you'd expect, crafty and frenchy without the interference of a coherent plot. Or rather, the lack of plot acted somewhat interfering-ly on my total enjoyment. But we left the film with the satisfying post-film sensation, other wordly, out of sorts. It was cold and rainy all day -- which paralleled the cold, raininess of the Paris backdrop of the movie. Unfortunately we weren't really in Paris, but in fact in Santa Cruz. Disappointing.
But it does encourage me to start thinking ahead -- next stop, Paris. (I am an unabashed francophile: no. 1 on my own personal list of platforms.)
One more item on my money spent sheet: we bought some cds -- the first i've bought in what seems decades. a duo called "camera obscura" of post-belle and sebast. glory. i like it, but it doesn't fully satisfy. it's too cutesy to fully accomplish anything.

Intro to Lit. Theory

I just had my first section today . . . and it went well! I'm TA-ing for an intro to literary theory whose focus is Marxism -- taught by Chris Connery, the resident Marxist of the lit dept. I know ostensibly nothing about Marxism, except for piddley things like exchange-value and commodity fetishism -- I know the words more than what they mean. But, I can handle the more general topics, like ideology, and the big question: "what IS literature, anyway." So, I opened with this question and people started talking! I love it. I gush only because TA-ing has historically frightened me. I get all nervous and worried that I'll stumble over my words and everyone will know how stupid i am. But today was actually ok. i feel good about it.

here's an image that has nothing to do with anything:

New Week, New Plans

I've woken up early. I'm already dressed. It's time to get up to school and start reading.
I know it must seem absurd, this process of getting myself psyched about studying -- ready, set, SIT! -- but I really need it. I've reserved a carrell in the library where it's quiet and i'll be surrounded by books with information and theories. i'll also be close-ish to the gym. how convenient? work out the mind and body. i'm even worse at the latter, if you can believe it.

from the looks of this entry, i shouldn't be doing too much writing this early in the morning. i'm just proud that my eyes are open and i have a bra on already.

Why I don't write fiction

I've had a little trouble sleeping lately. I wake up around 3AM and can't fall asleep again for a couple of hours. Last night, rummaging through thoughts of the calming variety, I began to wonder if it would be possible to rewrite a plot-driven novel -- my example was Pride and Prejudice -- in a reflexive mode. So, for example, instead of Bridget Jones' Diary you might have something closer to Corrections or whatever. Something better [than BJD], to put it simply. So I started to mentally compose this novel of the modernized and thoughful Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy and realized what an awful writer I am. I write, in my mind, like I wish I were born in 1834, but with some modern lingo thrown in to "jazz it up." ("Lizzie threw him a vicious smirk then made for the buffet counter.") Thus -- I do not write fiction.

Anyway, is it possible to write a story about a girl who hates a guy and then ends up loving him without evoking Carrie, Miranda etal? Yes?

beach blanket babylon

now that we're all up-to-date, I can indulge in the right-here.
In between reading books aimlessly, worrying about the beginning of a new quarter, and writing -- very slooowly, too slow for mama pak -- thank you cards, i've been working on a baby blanket for my sister-in-law. she's due next month. now, here's what it looks like so far:


i know, i'm still a novice. but not a totally inept one . . . except for this glaring error which i made at the beginning of the project:


how, oh anonymous knitter, do i solve the problem of the dangling threads? I, as you can see, eventually discovered the art of "intarsia," but I'm sadly left with these few unattractive (totally novice, ick!) loose ends.

been a while

oh dear. i haven't been very diligent with the blog.
well, much has happened. which i may be able to relate, or fast forward through, pictorally. let's see . . .
my mom and dave and i went to la for my cousin's wedding. that was in may.


then erin visited . . . we went to the crow's nest for lunch. i remember france beat someone (germany?) in the world cup and everyone there was happy.


there was a chihuly show at the missouri botanical garden. giant christmas ornaments in lily ponds. it was very hot this day, and i went with my family on an empty stomach. two hours later, i was very grumpy.


then my friend jason got married in a very lovely setting. the evening was warm, but not unbearable. and, although there was not enough dancing, the reception was drink and smoke friendly.


then of course, this happened.


which we celebrated by a rapid trip back to california. this i think is in a cute little town outside pueblo, co. we drove through dozens of really cute, small towns. but the towns we actually spent any time in were large and kind of depressing. we really needed to have planned this whole thing better. but really, it just gives us a reason to take a "real honeymoon" sometime later.

it won't stop!

it has rained i think, approximately, forever days.
this has been my life for the past eternity:


but this past weekend, we went up to san francisco and did some relaxing at a friend's house while it poured outdoors.
here's the chilling:


pictoral representations of my recent past

pictures

i got me a little digital camera.
see?

i don't lie

it's true. this thing is very infrequently updated. if i had gotten a digital camera like i wanted for christmas, i could've gone crazy on the blogspot. but i didn't, so the world will have to suffer with me.
superbowl sunday! went over to clay's and had some dip, little rock style. then my fever came back and i went directly home after the game. cause i'm sick, you see. so dave (oops) and i watched this silly movie called "the chumscrubber." the cute lad from "billy elliot" is in it. without the cute accent. the movie was stupid. but it did follow a series of disaffected youth films, including "thumbsucker," and "the squid and the whale." poor, messed up boys. boogie boo boo. (that's the sound of sarcastic baby talk).