Hyper Little Thoughts

You know, once you actually get into it, it's not so bad afterall. It's a little slow-going, but this idea that "repression" is actually a catalyst for the opposite is fascinating to me. I only have one more part - about 60 pages left. I've been taking periodic breaks to absorb the material. I feel all scholarly, though, trudging through this thing. It does use one of my pet peeves though. In academic or "intelligent" institutions, people for whatever feel the need for using extremely "intelligent" words to describe an idea, and usually a whole host of such words. What bothers me is when they do this, even though the idea can be summed up using a)laymen's vocabulary, or b)using a relatively small amount of words. I hate that people have to "show off" to make themselves feel smart.

Which is almost ironic, because in four seperate passages now, Foucault has attacked society for being so "verbose" when it comes to sexuality. Funny.

Needless to say, I'm getting much use out of my dictionary.

It's because I'm reading The History of Sexuality by Michel Foucault. I'm on page 8, and I have to read to page 130 by tomorrow evening. I've been reading for over an hour. This is seriously difficult stuff, theory aside. I feel like a short-bus rider trying to get through it. If you're unfamiliar with Foucault or queer/sexuality theory at all, I offer you a quote that I had to reread 12 times before I could piece together it's meaning:

"The affirmation of a sexuality that has never been more rigorously subjugated than during the age of the hypocritical, bustling, and responsible bourgeoisie is coupled with the gradiliquence of a discourse purporting to reveal the truth about sex, modify its economy within reality, subvert the law that governs it, and change its future."

Can someone IM me some Red Bull? I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.

I'm either hungover. Or bloody sick.

And since I only had two cocktails after work last night, I'm thinking it's probably the second one. Great. Just what I need right now. Sickness.

OTOH, though, that gives me the perfect excuse to lie in bed all day and not do homework. You know, except that if I don't, I'll be screwed. I need to read a few chapters for Intro the LGBTQ class, and write a paper. I also need to read a few chapters of Foucault (*cringe* - have you ever read this guy?!) for Queer Theory. 6 chapters for history, 300+ pages for Social Justice, and study for an exam in Human Sexuality.

Oh yeah, my life is teh funnest.

Hmm...maybe I'll reply to the 100+ LJ comments I've got stored up from all of you loverly people. Maybe.

Meant to include this on the last post, but I think this'll be read more.

I've gotten a few more emails on "abandoned!?!?!" fics. I know I haven't posted anything lately. But, I have not abandoned Learn to be Lonely, and if you've been following my RL posts, you'll know I've been a bit hectic lately. I have no clue when I'll be able to update it, or any of my other projects. Probably not anytime in the forseeable future.

Not technically a drabble, because I've no idea how long it's going to wind up being, but I felt the need to write something. I'm in a funky mood since this afternoon. Guilt, over not going to class; sadness over a conversation I had with someone today and what that convo means; worry over finances; you know - the usual stuff. No worries though, still high and dry. Just felt like brooding a bit. Hence, the dribble.

The fog dissipates like a curtain thrown back, and the city rushes to life once more. Taxi horns in the distance, a car alarm screaming. A homeless man pushes his cart across the intersection, one of its wheels missing and scraping against the asphalt. A bus rushes by, sweeping its blue-black smoke into my face, my hair, my mouth. I feel dirty. The dirt freezes in me with each step I take along the grey sidewalk. One cement square followed by another and another, each one with its own tracks and cracks. A thousand journeys pass over them with each sunrise and sunset. My path is the same as ever, my steps as repetative as the hour, the day, the month before. It's a travel I know well. I walk alone, two feet, two hands, two eyes, one heart beating in time to the sounds of my steps on the pavement. As I look ahead, I can see row after row of parked cars. Reds, blues, whites and blacks all overlaid with a thick coat of grey dust, ash, slush from this greasy winter. They reflect the sunless sky, the dark clouds that soar above the beige and empty tree branches. With each clip-clap of my feet, the daylight darkens; my soul grows heavier. I feel coldness on my cheek, wetness on my nose, and I turn my face back to the sky. Thick and heavy flakes float dreamily down; white chases away the grey. Suddenly the day seems bright, as it wasn't before. It seems colder, but this cold kisses the senses rather than drowning them. The wind stirs the flakes like confetti, and I am a parade of one, continuting on my journey, marching towards the end. No trumpets to announce me, no crowds to cheer me. Only the clip-clap on the familiar squares and the sounds of the city as I'm swallowed by the day once more.

The perfect dinner breakfast after-work treat..

Damn. I only had 2 cocktails after we closed, and I'm feeling mighty happy.

I love working in a bar. Teehee. Even if I only made $20 tonight (grr). And even if I have to be up in 5 hours for school hell school. Ah well. Suck it up, it's only an hour and a half. And then I can come home, take a nap, go to my dentist appointment, come home, and go to bed.

I'm not all that sure that being a bar-person is perhaps the best job for a student to have, especially when there's only 143 days left until graduation.

So...

Goodnight.

So, for the class I actually like, Queer Theory, we're reading a book by Riki Wilchins called Queer Theory, Gender Theory: An Instant Primer. It's a fascinating read, and a quick one too. I've almost finished it in just a couple short hours.

Anyway, the chapter on Gay Rights really got me to thinking. She explains how issues with gender is entwined with both Gay rights as well as feminism. Feminists in the beginning didn't want women calling themselves feminists if they were too masculine looking and acting, because they feared it would set the movement back. Which, in a way, is true. Conservatives of that era (and still today, really) weren't ready to accept that some women just are "butch" acting and prefer mens clothes, jobs, etc. So feminist groups in the early days ostracized butch or lesbian women for fear of that. By the same token, I see this in the gay community time and time again. Hell, even until recently I was the same way: the community shuns or disaproves of men who are fags - or, too effeminate, as well as lesbians who are dykes - too butch. Because at the time being, we're trying to impose upon the conservatives that "we're just like you" even at the cost of ostracizing a good part of our community - which includes transpeople and crossdressers. Is it really worth it? I mean, if we're throwing half of the cargo off the train - does it really matter where we're going or if we get there at all?

Something I'll be thinking about from now on, that's for sure.

Weee! I have the whole weekend to myself (is it sad that it depresses me because a weekend is only 2 days? *grr*). That means I can finally get some stuff done. I need to clean the apartment, desperately, including the bathroom *shudder*. Also need to go through my closet and clean it out. And then get caught up on all my reading for school (i'm already behind!). Take back some stuff to target and Marshall's. And go to Kohl's and see if they have anything in black. Do you know how hard it is to find clothes in all black that isn't dress slacks?

Speaking of all black. Last night was my first official night of "work" at Gentry. Went pretty well - didn't do quite as well in tips as I thought I would, which kind of sucked. But on the other hand, I made in 4 hours what I would make in a 10 hour shift catering. And I work Monday night, which should hopefully be not-bad; although Monday nights lately have been really bad. Ah well, it should all be well. At least it's cash in my pocket and a check in the bank, which is never not good.

So I should probably get started on the cleaning. Matt's coming over later and I think we're doing dinner out tonight. I feel the need to dance. Or at the very least, be out. The goal for the evening: not to spend everything I made last night.

*does a pretty good impression of a fish*

I just heard the Wicked soundtrack for the first time - up till now I'd only heard the Wizard and I and Defying Gravity (which are so not the best songs from the musical).

Now I'm bitter and angst-ridden.

Stupid musical. Poo.

I feel like I've been away a long time, or something. And I know I've been a crap LJ Friend the past couple of weeks.

( RL Ramble - I'll spare you. )