Monday, April 19, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
This semester I have been taking Chaucer as one of my high level English classes. Over our trip through the Canterbury Tales something interesting has happened to me. In our modern setting for literature (ever since around the 19th century, I believe) there has been huge mania for the author to be absent from the work. Show, don't tell. I've listened to that phrase repeated over and over until I felt as though were I a horse, they would have been pounding dead chunks of me into the floor rather a while ago. I've been noticing Chaucer, though. In this work, his influence appears everywhere. His commentaries on everyone and everything are woven as delicately through the text as some exquisite thread woven through a tapestry. He speaks through the Wife of Bath,where he gives woman a voice and he tears apart old and shopworn ideas. He establishes the hierarchy (The Knights Tale), and then pulls it apart in front of our eyes (Like with dear ol' Topas). I find I value his opinion, albeit from hundreds of years away and beyond the grave. Where Shakespeare is oft regarded as The Bard (capital letters and all) Geoffrey Chaucer stands out in his work as a nicely flawed, and very real man. Now, likely his personality was nothing like the image I've crafted in my head about this author. Needless to say, there stands some evidence that he was anti-Semitic. He generally tends to be bitingly critical of some, while pardoning others easily and without second thought.
I find I enjoy this image. His contradictions and uncomfortable flaws make him seem like one of us, which may well have held his appeal for the community at large. Not an aristocrat and not a peasant, Chaucer straddled both worlds, and with his quirky honesty becomes appealing to all. Like a good friend, sometimes he drives me up the wall. Sometimes I hate him a bit. Never before in my life have I felt this way about an author. I find I had been content to leave the curtain drawn, and not cared to look at the man behind it. After all, the great Oz told me not to, right? This class has given me a different perspective. I find myself looking at literature in different ways, suddenly conscious about the author in ways I never had been before. Simply, it rocks toast. (Yes, toast.)
I find what I enjoy most to be the picture of him and his motley crew of pilgrims that has formed in my head. Luckily for me they don't have to be based in reality, I have my text, and my imagination. Happily, neither of these things have much to do with the world at large.
I find I enjoy this image. His contradictions and uncomfortable flaws make him seem like one of us, which may well have held his appeal for the community at large. Not an aristocrat and not a peasant, Chaucer straddled both worlds, and with his quirky honesty becomes appealing to all. Like a good friend, sometimes he drives me up the wall. Sometimes I hate him a bit. Never before in my life have I felt this way about an author. I find I had been content to leave the curtain drawn, and not cared to look at the man behind it. After all, the great Oz told me not to, right? This class has given me a different perspective. I find myself looking at literature in different ways, suddenly conscious about the author in ways I never had been before. Simply, it rocks toast. (Yes, toast.)
I find what I enjoy most to be the picture of him and his motley crew of pilgrims that has formed in my head. Luckily for me they don't have to be based in reality, I have my text, and my imagination. Happily, neither of these things have much to do with the world at large.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Harharhar...
Descartes walks into a bar. The bartender asks, "Would you like a drink?" Descartes replies, "No, I think not." Descartes then disappears.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
So Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?
I have stumbled very uncomfortably upon one of the most ingenious scams of all time. Before now I had sympathized with victims of this plot, but never had been on quite this impressive a business end of a car dealership buggery. After doing fairly well today at school and work, I made my humble way over to the car dealership service center to see about fixing my drivers side seat belt buckle. I confidently stepped through the door, assured that I would be well taken care of by the kind female voice that had directed me through the door. Smiling faces lined my way through the winding road up to the service center. Breathing a sigh of relief, I outlined my plight to the kind goateed fellow who approached me, and with an assurance I was in good hands. Grinning, he went inside to price the service that would return my car to safe working order.
Now, a brief tangent: I find life is all about relying on others. Lawyers rely on the cops to bring them the bad guys, investigators to gather up the evidence, judges to argue before. Actors need costumers, writers, directors, (and possibly worst of all) other actors. All of this winds down to the simple fact that where ever one goes, it is impossible to escape without at least briefly being in a venerable position. This leaves room for somebody to screw you over. Usually the person doing the screwing will be wearing a tie.
Back to my original story, the smiling and goateed gentleman who so confidently assured me of his ability to help returned, a carefully calculated look of alarm and empathy on his face. It was at this point a cold stab of fear jolted through me, and I noticed; the man was wearing a red checkered tie. One of those ties that every denizen of a car dealership wears... those terrifyingly ostentatious ties that aught to say "Run! Get out now!" but never seem to become noticeable until the guillotine drops, and your bodiless head lies blinking up towards the sky, a splattering of blood on the pavement.
This all led me to the enlightenment I now suffer. These places design parts to break. Specifically engineered to wear out, keeping the part just complex and unique enough to be exclusively available only from the dealer. It is bloody genius. They have a stranglehold on the masses, people who have no other choice but to play their sick little game. Honestly, I am impressed. And likely will be walking bowlegged until this time next year after discussing the cost for this relatively simple repair.
Never before have I encountered such impressively subtle brutality as that tie wearing gentleman showing me a single slip of paper.
Now, a brief tangent: I find life is all about relying on others. Lawyers rely on the cops to bring them the bad guys, investigators to gather up the evidence, judges to argue before. Actors need costumers, writers, directors, (and possibly worst of all) other actors. All of this winds down to the simple fact that where ever one goes, it is impossible to escape without at least briefly being in a venerable position. This leaves room for somebody to screw you over. Usually the person doing the screwing will be wearing a tie.
Back to my original story, the smiling and goateed gentleman who so confidently assured me of his ability to help returned, a carefully calculated look of alarm and empathy on his face. It was at this point a cold stab of fear jolted through me, and I noticed; the man was wearing a red checkered tie. One of those ties that every denizen of a car dealership wears... those terrifyingly ostentatious ties that aught to say "Run! Get out now!" but never seem to become noticeable until the guillotine drops, and your bodiless head lies blinking up towards the sky, a splattering of blood on the pavement.
This all led me to the enlightenment I now suffer. These places design parts to break. Specifically engineered to wear out, keeping the part just complex and unique enough to be exclusively available only from the dealer. It is bloody genius. They have a stranglehold on the masses, people who have no other choice but to play their sick little game. Honestly, I am impressed. And likely will be walking bowlegged until this time next year after discussing the cost for this relatively simple repair.
Never before have I encountered such impressively subtle brutality as that tie wearing gentleman showing me a single slip of paper.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Thought I had emerged victorious....
I am tired, and I feel small. This is certainly not my favorite place to be.
But hey... luckily I have a blog for such things. A nice little place where I can freely admit that I acted badly, and complain about my petty misfortunes and issues with the illusion of anonymity... but what the hell, eh? The only people I am aware of that read this I know in person, and my disparaging comments about the conduct of my ex-room mate will likely soon be reaching his ears. Most likely to be viewed as an attack, and retaliated with in kind.
Wondering what happened? If no, best likely just to skip this entry entirely, and go look at this rather amusing website here about ten really cool places you cannot go. (Likely a better read than the following.)
Kept reading? Wow. I wouldn't have...
Ok. So. I'm sure anyone who actually reads this blog knows at this time I am in a bit of a transition. One room mate is moving out, another would like to move in. My situation is this: the alternate roomie has been on hold since December, because the former roomie has been moving the move-out date just about constantly.
This week, that date finally came. He and I had previously had some issues with cleaning. Or, more accurately, I had some issues with how I felt the chores were being allocated. I wont go into specifics, but things were really rather reaching a fever pitch with me. In any case, the conduct of this other person had in many ways been an issue with me. Particularly as recently he has been doing (or rather not getting done) many things.... the main reason? To spite me for not having agreed to give him nearly a hundred dollars to get his things out of my apartment by the end of the month, thus forcing me to continue putting off the nice fella who has been waiting to move in here since December. (Because it is not the 31st, he wants to be pro-rated for the balance of the month. I would likely been more willing to agree if 1) he had been kinder about making that request and 2) if I could spare that kind of money) As it is now March, we can assume my new roomie is rather magnificently patient. (Which seems to be a pretty big requirement for living with me)
I had intended on beginning this blog triumphantly, for I used his own logic to gain myself a small victory in this nasty, passive aggressive cold war we seem to be engaged in. My victory was short lived. The state of my apartment was awful. Filthy to the point that I was actively embarrassed to have people over, and hadn't in any real basis in weeks. Now, one might assume that upon moving out, I would have help getting things ready, but alas, this has not happened. Two days, nearly 50 dollars, and about 11 hours of work have seen the apartment much improved, but still unfinished. I have done all of this alone. This has frustrated me a great deal, particularly in the face of the fact that my ex-room mate has specifically not helped even finish moving his own things out. I have several friends coming tonight to help me get the rest of his things out tonight (four days after the move date) so professional carpet cleaners can come and take care of his room tomorrow. Now, frankly, my conduct here has been less than admirable. I have been stubborn, pig headed, and reduced to yelling at him. Its mean, and its petty, and things have gotten to the point where I just want him to give me my goddamn key, and let us go on with our lives. I'm looking forward to merely being friends, and members of the same gaming group, not room mates. The victory might be saving my new room mate and myself this fee, but will be coming at an interesting cost. Since I wont pay it, the cold war wont end.
Now I just feel nasty. No triumph at my little victory, no feeling of excitement and ease that should come with such, no key... mostly I am just wondering what other mean little things he is going to do, and I am going to retaliate with, before this whole mess is over.
Now a little disclaimer: I do not dislike my ex-roomie. (Enjoying that diplomatic double-negative?) By and large (and he is very large... one of the tallest damn fellows I've ever had the pleasure of meeting) he is an excellent guy. My disagreements with certain aspects of his character do not discount the fact that he is certainly intelligent, and can be a great deal of fun to hang out with.
I am looking forward to the end of this mean little war. I really hope he and his awesome (sexy) girlfriend really enjoy living with each other, and that my new roomie and I get along with this new facet to our dynamic.
I am really looking forward to the time when this small feeling goes away.
And now? A nap.
But hey... luckily I have a blog for such things. A nice little place where I can freely admit that I acted badly, and complain about my petty misfortunes and issues with the illusion of anonymity... but what the hell, eh? The only people I am aware of that read this I know in person, and my disparaging comments about the conduct of my ex-room mate will likely soon be reaching his ears. Most likely to be viewed as an attack, and retaliated with in kind.
Wondering what happened? If no, best likely just to skip this entry entirely, and go look at this rather amusing website here about ten really cool places you cannot go. (Likely a better read than the following.)
Kept reading? Wow. I wouldn't have...
Ok. So. I'm sure anyone who actually reads this blog knows at this time I am in a bit of a transition. One room mate is moving out, another would like to move in. My situation is this: the alternate roomie has been on hold since December, because the former roomie has been moving the move-out date just about constantly.
This week, that date finally came. He and I had previously had some issues with cleaning. Or, more accurately, I had some issues with how I felt the chores were being allocated. I wont go into specifics, but things were really rather reaching a fever pitch with me. In any case, the conduct of this other person had in many ways been an issue with me. Particularly as recently he has been doing (or rather not getting done) many things.... the main reason? To spite me for not having agreed to give him nearly a hundred dollars to get his things out of my apartment by the end of the month, thus forcing me to continue putting off the nice fella who has been waiting to move in here since December. (Because it is not the 31st, he wants to be pro-rated for the balance of the month. I would likely been more willing to agree if 1) he had been kinder about making that request and 2) if I could spare that kind of money) As it is now March, we can assume my new roomie is rather magnificently patient. (Which seems to be a pretty big requirement for living with me)
I had intended on beginning this blog triumphantly, for I used his own logic to gain myself a small victory in this nasty, passive aggressive cold war we seem to be engaged in. My victory was short lived. The state of my apartment was awful. Filthy to the point that I was actively embarrassed to have people over, and hadn't in any real basis in weeks. Now, one might assume that upon moving out, I would have help getting things ready, but alas, this has not happened. Two days, nearly 50 dollars, and about 11 hours of work have seen the apartment much improved, but still unfinished. I have done all of this alone. This has frustrated me a great deal, particularly in the face of the fact that my ex-room mate has specifically not helped even finish moving his own things out. I have several friends coming tonight to help me get the rest of his things out tonight (four days after the move date) so professional carpet cleaners can come and take care of his room tomorrow. Now, frankly, my conduct here has been less than admirable. I have been stubborn, pig headed, and reduced to yelling at him. Its mean, and its petty, and things have gotten to the point where I just want him to give me my goddamn key, and let us go on with our lives. I'm looking forward to merely being friends, and members of the same gaming group, not room mates. The victory might be saving my new room mate and myself this fee, but will be coming at an interesting cost. Since I wont pay it, the cold war wont end.
Now I just feel nasty. No triumph at my little victory, no feeling of excitement and ease that should come with such, no key... mostly I am just wondering what other mean little things he is going to do, and I am going to retaliate with, before this whole mess is over.
Now a little disclaimer: I do not dislike my ex-roomie. (Enjoying that diplomatic double-negative?) By and large (and he is very large... one of the tallest damn fellows I've ever had the pleasure of meeting) he is an excellent guy. My disagreements with certain aspects of his character do not discount the fact that he is certainly intelligent, and can be a great deal of fun to hang out with.
I am looking forward to the end of this mean little war. I really hope he and his awesome (sexy) girlfriend really enjoy living with each other, and that my new roomie and I get along with this new facet to our dynamic.
I am really looking forward to the time when this small feeling goes away.
And now? A nap.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Only after...
"After they've known each other ten minutes, they will be calling each other sister."
"Women only do that after they have called each other a lot of other things first."
-Oscar Wilde
And now for something completely different.
Alrighty, so, it seems St. Patty's Day is upon us again. I am given to understand that this holiday is usually celebrated by green beer, parades, and impressive amounts of behavior which generally doesn't happen as widely on a Wednesday night. Like many holidays, obviously this tradition has gotten a bit skewed. (C'mon... easter eggs? I'm sure the Catholic church wouldn't like to admit that this holiday was moved to correspond to a certain pagan festival to smooth the way for mass conversion... but I digress...)
In any case, an interesting e-book details a great deal of information about this holiday. Here in case anyone would like to take a look-see.
BUT in the true spirit of the holiday as celebrated right at this very moment, I am going to gloss over the facts, wear a green shirt, and although I am not drinking, I can certainly sit back and enjoy the revelers in all their green glory.
For me today has been a great deal more about things other than plastering shamrocks about myself and imbibing impressive amounts of alcohol. Firstly, this morning around 5:00 AM, I got a phone call. A very welcome one (which is impressive, seen as how usually if my phone goes off at this hour I am more likely to react violently than with pleasure). While I certainly doubt that anyone I do not know well reads this little ramble, I will give a bit of context. I am dating my best friend. An occasionally infuriating, arrogant, stubborn, crazy, entertaining, and charming Marine. Right at this moment he is deployed, and has been so for four months. While certainly my lot is not as difficult as the wives of soldiers, it has not exactly been a dance through the daises. Emails are rare, and phone calls are about as frequent as an honest politician. However, I suppose they must certainly exist... for at any rate, I got a call this morning.
He is very very bored. This makes me very very happy. Why? Because it means that he has nothing dangerous to occupy his time.
He also rather excitedly informed me that today marks exactly 4 months since his deployment began, and as such, in another 3 he will be home!
BWAHAHAHA!
On top of that, the mail today brought me a precious parcel purveyed by Amazon and a particularly proficient postman. (Alliteration for the win...) Leverage has arrived! for any theoretical readers who dont know (geeze, have you been living under a rock?) Leverage is a series which has been airing on TNT (holy crap I hope I'm right about that....) and that I have been watching with the magnificent mother of my missing man thing.
The brilliance of this series knows no bounds. Formulaic in the style of the old Bond (pre-hard-body-Dano-Craig-direction) and the A-Team, without being predictable or boring. In point of fact, not once have I been able to predict the outcome of an episode fully. It also makes lovely little nods to the fanbase, referencing Doctor Who and cameo appearances of Star Trek crew (to name a few). Insanely well written and exquisitely enjoyable.
Starring Academy Award Winning (harhar... it was when he was 18... get over it guys) Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman (also making a stellar appearance in the British show Coupling), Christain Kane (from Joss Whedon's Angel), Beth Riesgraf, and Aldis (whoa.. his parents were not kind) Hodge.
By and large the series runs like a modern Robin Hood, with a crack team of criminals robbing the corrupt and giving back to the people who were screwed over by the scheming scoundrels. Check out the official website (complete with free episodes) here.
Apart from these lovely occurrences, I have spent the balance of my day at work.
I am a personal assistant, and although I admittedly rather enjoy my job, I find almost every stereotype of the occupation to be true. However, that will have to wait for a later blog. My eyeballs are melting out of my head (after waking at 5:00 and running a 9+ hour shift) so I hope everyone has had a wonderfully inebriated holiday. Be safe guys, I have few enough readers that I can't afford to lose a one of you. <3
Now alls I need is a proper cup of tea to restore my normality, and Academy Award Winner Timothy Hutton to complete my green shirt wearin', green beer avoidin' St. Patty's Day.
"Women only do that after they have called each other a lot of other things first."
-Oscar Wilde
And now for something completely different.
Alrighty, so, it seems St. Patty's Day is upon us again. I am given to understand that this holiday is usually celebrated by green beer, parades, and impressive amounts of behavior which generally doesn't happen as widely on a Wednesday night. Like many holidays, obviously this tradition has gotten a bit skewed. (C'mon... easter eggs? I'm sure the Catholic church wouldn't like to admit that this holiday was moved to correspond to a certain pagan festival to smooth the way for mass conversion... but I digress...)
In any case, an interesting e-book details a great deal of information about this holiday. Here in case anyone would like to take a look-see.
BUT in the true spirit of the holiday as celebrated right at this very moment, I am going to gloss over the facts, wear a green shirt, and although I am not drinking, I can certainly sit back and enjoy the revelers in all their green glory.
For me today has been a great deal more about things other than plastering shamrocks about myself and imbibing impressive amounts of alcohol. Firstly, this morning around 5:00 AM, I got a phone call. A very welcome one (which is impressive, seen as how usually if my phone goes off at this hour I am more likely to react violently than with pleasure). While I certainly doubt that anyone I do not know well reads this little ramble, I will give a bit of context. I am dating my best friend. An occasionally infuriating, arrogant, stubborn, crazy, entertaining, and charming Marine. Right at this moment he is deployed, and has been so for four months. While certainly my lot is not as difficult as the wives of soldiers, it has not exactly been a dance through the daises. Emails are rare, and phone calls are about as frequent as an honest politician. However, I suppose they must certainly exist... for at any rate, I got a call this morning.
He is very very bored. This makes me very very happy. Why? Because it means that he has nothing dangerous to occupy his time.
He also rather excitedly informed me that today marks exactly 4 months since his deployment began, and as such, in another 3 he will be home!
BWAHAHAHA!
On top of that, the mail today brought me a precious parcel purveyed by Amazon and a particularly proficient postman. (Alliteration for the win...) Leverage has arrived! for any theoretical readers who dont know (geeze, have you been living under a rock?) Leverage is a series which has been airing on TNT (holy crap I hope I'm right about that....) and that I have been watching with the magnificent mother of my missing man thing.
The brilliance of this series knows no bounds. Formulaic in the style of the old Bond (pre-hard-body-Dano-Craig-direction) and the A-Team, without being predictable or boring. In point of fact, not once have I been able to predict the outcome of an episode fully. It also makes lovely little nods to the fanbase, referencing Doctor Who and cameo appearances of Star Trek crew (to name a few). Insanely well written and exquisitely enjoyable.
Starring Academy Award Winning (harhar... it was when he was 18... get over it guys) Timothy Hutton, Gina Bellman (also making a stellar appearance in the British show Coupling), Christain Kane (from Joss Whedon's Angel), Beth Riesgraf, and Aldis (whoa.. his parents were not kind) Hodge.
By and large the series runs like a modern Robin Hood, with a crack team of criminals robbing the corrupt and giving back to the people who were screwed over by the scheming scoundrels. Check out the official website (complete with free episodes) here.
Apart from these lovely occurrences, I have spent the balance of my day at work.
I am a personal assistant, and although I admittedly rather enjoy my job, I find almost every stereotype of the occupation to be true. However, that will have to wait for a later blog. My eyeballs are melting out of my head (after waking at 5:00 and running a 9+ hour shift) so I hope everyone has had a wonderfully inebriated holiday. Be safe guys, I have few enough readers that I can't afford to lose a one of you. <3
Now alls I need is a proper cup of tea to restore my normality, and Academy Award Winner Timothy Hutton to complete my green shirt wearin', green beer avoidin' St. Patty's Day.
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