78uuu lumière des étoiles

Dusty:Starlight:Culture



Restored
2004-05-14   2:15 p.m.

What tremendous and beautiful thunderstorms we've had over this last week in the northeast. I knew the first one was coming earlier in the week before I'd even heard the weather report, since I got a particular kind of migraine half an hour before. So yes, like the dainty protagonist of some Victorian Novel, I was physically affected by the storm and "indisposed" for the rest of the evening.

I woke up groggy from both the migraine and the medication I took to make it go away. It was still thundering and lightening outside, and with each flash I either imagined or really felt surges of pressure at the back of my neck. I got frustrated, saying to Steve that it's depressing to be somewhat broken, unable to function like everyone else during sudden thunderstorms.

I said that if I lived thousands of years ago, the tribe would have left me behind because of my neuro-vascular defects. But he insisted that no, I would be revered as a shaman, a living goddess, who'd be able to predict the weather long before anyone else since I'd be able to feel it in my body.

He insisted that he would be the one left behind, saying he'd be useless to the tribe since his eyesight is so poor and 1-800-CONTACTS probably didn't deliver back then. I reminded him that most prophets have been blind, and that he surely would have been one then. We do over-develop our other senses when one isn't functioning, I explained, and who knows what powers he would have acquired had he never been able to wear glasses?

A shaman and a prophet seems like a good marriage to me.

I guess it is kind of cool to be viscerally connected to the environment this way; it's a good reminder of how small I am and how infinitely related the Universe's sources of energy are.

But enough metaphysics for today.

Sculptor Sean is home from Maine. He came over for dinner on Wednesday and we went to see a band play Thursday night in Hoboken with our friend Michael. Sean spent the night here and just left a few hours ago; so in essence it's as if he never left. Don't you love it when that happens?

He seems extremely happy with the progress he's made with his art and with all the new things he learned about making furniture at the school in Maine. Steve is very very happy to have his best friend home, and I am as happy to see Steve happy as I am that I can have my wonderful face to face conversations with Sean again.

He's applying for Irish citizenship (which anyone can do if a parent or grandparent was at one time an Irish national) next week, so in six months he too will become an EU citizen. We talked about the process at length on Wednesday night and about why it is such a good idea; we also decided to start calling ourselves "the EU Crew" and invite anyone else who has duel citizenship to come and hang out when we drink wine, talk about philosophy or God and watch artsy movies.

It wasn't until I sobered up the next morning that I realized what a raging stereotype I'd become of myself in those moments. The liberal feminist ex-pat professor. I thought about it all the way to the University during my drive the next morning. I was attending a Writing Across the Curriculum (WAC for short; HAHAHAHA!) program colloquium all day, sponsored by my two (amongst other) departments. It was there that I observed enough things to reassure myself that no, I have certainly NOT become a walking stereotype when compared to some of the other nutters who teach college full time or have dedicated their lives to writing and research.

A few times I felt like standing up and saying "now now children, play nice...", but I just didn't have the cojones. At least I got a few shots in at the dean (who, of course, didn't show up) for cutting our funding yet expecting unrealistic results from our new writing-intensive upper division courses. I was told after the meeting not to "beat myself up" over it, because after all, "it's just capitalism". I suppose that's true, but it doesn't solve our immediate problem, unless of course "the revolution" will be happening sometime next week.

I still have my feet on the ground, I still have a TV, and I know how to use a cell phone; I do not spend Friday nights at home alone reading "The Edwardian Language of Flowers in the novels of (fill in stuffy author here)", so I'm not one of them yet. So I'll drink wine, talk about politics, and have my little EU club as much as I want, thankyouverymuch.

That effrontery was directed at none other than my left brain, so don't worry. I believe I've just published one of my many left/right brain fights. How interesting!

I went out with some of the girlzz from my department after the conference and we rolled our collective eyes at the political, bourgeois, and snobbishly resistant stance some people took to new program ideas. Oh well, to each their own, I suppose, but I think it was good for us to talk things over over some chow. It helped me sort through the chaos that had happened during the day, and see if I can take anything useful into my own classroom.

John K. asked me to join his book club, and I think I will. The first book is Joyce's Portrait of an Artist As A Young Man, which I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE. Nonetheless, I'll participate and hope better selections are made. I think everyone is trying to pick canonical selections, which I can understand since some of our palzees are taking Grad level comp exams, teaching high school english, or just had such an "alternative" schooling in literature that they want to see what all this classics stuff is about. I would fall into that latter category, though teaching English for a while at a high school forced me to read some of that canon. Blaaaaaaah.

I wish we were reading Laurie Lisle's Portrait of an Artist, which is a biography of Georgia O'Keefe. Oh well. Maybe I can slip something into the suggestion box before we meet up at McGovern's in early june.

I am done with school (yaaaay!) and it's almost my birthday (yaaaaaaaaay)! I have decided to gather with friends at a local watering hole, and since everyone's been notified and confirmed pretty much, I haven't a thing to do this week coming up. I will relax and try to re-read Joyce's crapola novel. I will ride bikes with Steve. I will visit my mother and my cat. I will go out for dinner with my brother and his girlfriend in New York. I will work on my novel. I will re-organize my make-up drawer. I will see some movies. I will visit Andrew in his new apartment. I will finally call Julie back. I will finally go shopping and have coffee with Amanda E. before she goes to Thailand with her foxy artsy boyfriend. I will sleep and be happy.

xoxo