Eh. Nothing much to say here. Yesterday was quiet; we did the shopping and then went on to Oma & Opa's house for dinner. Matt & Jun were there. It was the usual quiet sort of evening typical of my grandfather's decline; he announced his intentions perhaps nine or ten times.

Today was about the same; mom's been cleaning house like mad for my Dad's Parents' arrival later on, and so when Dad needed to do something, I went / was made to go with him. Afterwards, mom taught at me how to do divinity, but it looks rather tricky, so I don't know when I'll do my own.

Why read about my life? It's pathetic enough. Go read Michael Kelley.

I promise I'll do something interesting just as soon as I can get up the courage to do so. You Future Generations, you're lucky I'm making any sort of record at all, let alone being entertaining in them. What do you people want, anyway, "Met a girl, and rodgered her twice?" This isn't Virginia, you know.



Well, the ol' fambly dinner went all right; they're genuinly good folks, if a bit, well, uncouth. Naw, they're all right people. It was a fairly quiet affair, considering.

Went to see the Harry Potter movie. It wasn't the best cinema I've ever seen, and the ending just sucked, but the little scene after the credits was cute. Man, I'm telling you, Shirley Henderson was cute -- and as old as my parents, so no hopes there. The Burrow rocked, too -- it was like living with Grizz and Ana, only with more magic and everybody was redheaded.

My office will be Albus Dumbledore's office. I will own it.
I may dress like him, too. The eccentric part, though, I've got DOWN.

My dreams have been getting weird, and I'm still trying to deal with lonliness. Of all things, the Heloise-Abelard Letters are helping out.

"Who knows tomorrow where our home will be / But when I'm with you, that's home enough for me..."


Okay, so I spent five hours in the car on a three-hour journey, thanks to Mike "I'm the Guv-4-life" Huckabee and his Merry Pranksters. Dad and I almost went (back) to Subiaco, but I wasn't paying attention and the road's not well-marked coming down the Old Highway. There was dinner, and a consultation with a good friend who's having a bit of trouble, and whom I agreed, in my small way, to assist. Not much after that, really. I came home, started some clothes, and read my misdirected mail.

Been trying to get a copy of Windows XP, although I'm not really sure why -- 98 is doing fine, and I'm timorous to change, but it's nice to have an upgrade, and it's free-as-in-other-people's-beer, so what goes, goes.

We'll be going out to see Dad's family today, minus the grandparents, who are not coming for social reasons which I can't discuss here. Ahh... family.

I still miss someone; wherever she is, I hope she'll show up soon, because I'm tired of looking. Come back to us, Barbara Lewis Hare Krisna Beauregard.



My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus. Drew came round whilst I was plugging away at life, and invited me over to share in his new case of Beaujolais Nouveau, which we did, in the company of Shoph (apologies if it's spelled wrong) and Stuart. Tom came by, but, being Tom, left early for the purpose of finishing a paper. We all then went to dinner, and Drew and I returned; I finished reading Maus while he cleaned up in anticipation of his parents' arrival today (i.e. he was doing what I /should/ have been doing, but didn't because I was ydrinkeð

Before all this, I gave my silly little speech on cultures changing, and it came out well. Anthro, which was supposed to include an exam (for which I did not study) turned out to include a take-home exam and no actual class. I'd be whinging about the whole affair if it wasn't for the fact that it's an easy 'A'.

Ran off a copy of the important articles from the feminist issue of Speculum[1], since I think I need to know about this stuff. I don't know what it is, but Gender Studies in Mediæval History fascinates me. Hell, that'll play in Peoria.

Oi. Must... resist temptation to purge. Got to get a little orange juice, and a Darvon for my head.

-- ho oun Polemarxos ephe: O Sokrates, dokeite moi se exoinon einai.
-- ou gar kakos docazeis, en d'ego. [2]

[1] Volume 68, Issue 2 (April 1993)
[2] Plato, Republican Hangover


Rose early, did the new usual morning thing, had some coffee, ran bloody out of milk. Went to Chaucer, had a rolliking good time listening to Quinn blather on about some tangent, not that I'm worried. He'll get us to the end or die trying. (Right now, it's a fifty-fifty bet)

Went to work, did bugger all, and didn't have any coffee I'm so happy; maybe I can be normal! Afterwards, I went to Medieval History, which was fairly typical in its aspect, and then tried to go buy some milk, but the damn quickie-mart is closed for repairs, and the other one didn't have any half-gallons (or instant mac & cheese, which I was going to buy to cover the taste of these terrible soy noodles -- also free, so no knocking).

Pretty quiet thereafter. I finished up tapes for Sharlene, did some work on the first Antipode story, and basically ignored the fact that I have to give a speech tomorrow, but hell, I've been doing that for weeks anyway, so why start now? I'll just get up there and be irrelevant for six minutes and then sit the hell down.

Emerald Rose is a good band, though they do get a little heavy-handed on the Neo-Paganism sometimes, which I found hard to stomach even when I was a neo-pagan.

I'm to bed. Expacete, vobe.


Sunday, Part 3:
Patched things up with Fran; as for what this means, watch this space.

It's confirmed: pretty much every inch of feminist literature is written like a combination doctoral dissertation in animal husbandry and psychology, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing.

Oh, uh, the Sermon today was pretty profound. Take a looky-see at this spot. It was all about accepting and welcoming in your enemies; it's worth a read. Go! Go now!

That instant soup I ate was pretty terrible, but it was free, so I'm not knocking. I may be coming down with something, but it'll pass, I hope.
Sunday, part 2:
Okay... so... St. Paul's uses Rite I, and I wasn't ready for all the eths and thorns. It also sounded funny, since apparently either there's some crazy new stuff in the old Rites, or they're using some weird responses, I don't know. The church itself looked like a Norse stave-church, and the mass felt like 8/10ths of a Catholic Rite. The Arkansas Highlanders were there, too, since it's apparently the fest of St. Andrew. Nice, though. I feel clean. (grin)
I ended yesterday with about an hour of reading Judith Butler's Gender Troubles. My initial impression of the book is that it seems to be aimed for an audience of, oh, American, WASP feminists in their mid-forties -- in short, a hall full of Judith Butlers. I wonder if all feminists write so densly, and with such incredibly charged and negative words like "phallogocentric" and "masculinist hieriarchies". Certainly Lynda doesn't; but then I haven't read any of her books, although by the way she lectures, it seems to me that she's beyond the sort of brutal male-bashing that seems to pervade Feminist literature. She disparaged the GT, at any rate.Nevertheless, once again I feel dirty for reading feminist work -- as though it's something I'm not supposed to be reading. So, as a counter to that, I read a few chapters in H. Rider Haggard's She -- the antidote to Feminism if ever there were one.

After a fitful sleep, in which I dreamed that the church had no holy of holies and they just sat around discussing the bible like a bunch of Quakers, I began the day with more coffee, and a few more sections of the introduction to the RB80. I also started out with a bit of Genesis, and the (ugh) genaeologies of St. Matthew[1], since I figure it's high time I sat down and read the Bible; it can only come in handy in this field.

Also, with it being Sunday, I'll be going to St. Paul's[2], up the road; it will be the first time in saecula since I've gone to services, and I'm a little nervous, but it'll be the big service, and I have a few friends there. Also, there'll be coffee, so I'm safe (wry grin). Blame it on the Benedictines, I guess, but I've been meaning to go to St. Paul's for a long time. Now I will. I've even dressed up for the occasion -- nothing swave and deboner, mind you, just a little dressier than I've been wearing. I'm moving towards more conservative clothing anyway, on account of the ol' profession coming up and all. Couldn't find any slacks, though. Damn, I guess it's day-old jeans.

[1]And Boarb begat Mishra, and Mishra begat Charles the Bald, who begat by means of a goat named Shelia-Louise the son of Likud...
[2]St. Paul's Episcopal Church. Yep, I'm going Anglican again.


Wow. Okay. So, for the first time in, well, forever, I feel really good. Just... good. It's nice. I got up, I started some coffee, I read a bit of the RB80, and did the morning comix. I think I'm out of the ol' depressive funk, but there's still some major junk left over from that. Man, if we could have junk sales for our psycological damage, that would rule. I'd get rid of so much stuff.

Christ. Well, I'm glad, actually, that I did kind of go crazy there, because it's cut me out of a lot of teliologies, like "Well, I'm going to Grad School here, and I'll live with her, and we'll have great sex and a house with two cats, &c. &c." It's really made me aware of a) how dependant I am on metanarratives, at least personal ones -- the cultural and social ones I can break no problem -- and b) that I tend to create these damn things all the time, and then get really depressed when they don't work out. So, I need to stop that, eh? [1]

Funny, that you're in the best state to date your ex when you have the hindsight to know. Cursed monolithic time.

For those of you just tuning in, this is the first post, so if you're a little confused, hey, you're not alone.

And now for something completely different...

I used to sleep at the foot of Old Glory,
And awake in the dawn's early light.
But much to my surprise,
When I opened my eyes,
I was the victim of The Great Comprimise.

Benedictines RULE. I visited Subiaco (AR) yesterday, and they're just a great bunch of folks, really they are. You should visit them today (and send them Campbell's soup labels -- the monks need a van, even... though... they're... Benedictines... Oh, well).

Today's menu will be soup and milk, followed by pasta [2] and Vernor's Ginger Ale. Vernor's Ginger Ale is a proud sponsor of this blog; it is available wherever fine fizzy fundaments are found.

And now, the Lovely Lemon Sisters will sing "Salve Regina", by Louis Jordan.

[1] "But dreaming just comes natural
like the first breath of a baby
like sunshine and dasies
like the love buried deep in your heart."
-- John Prine, De Trinitate
[2] Pasta may contain BEEF, which is an animal by-product caused by putting small minds in the presence of death. It may also be served with a white sauce, depending on how fancy I'm feeling tonight. It is APHC night, after all.