You know you ought to slow down
You been working too hard
And that's a fact
Sit back and relax a while
Take some time to laugh and smile
Lay your heavy load down
So we can stop and kick back
It seems we never take the time to do
All the things we want to
"Take Your Time"--SOS Band
Hell to the yeah on that one, boys and girls!
I am rocking out to my favorite 12" disco hits this morning, knocking back some strong coffee and grooving like I'm in sequins and lycra instead of baggie sweats and faded Key West t-shirt. As my friend Antoine used to tell me, I dance like a white girl... but a fine white girl! Not sure Antoine would find me overly fine covered in Cheerio stains, but what the hell. I'm sexy and I know it. Snicker. (Side note for my mathy friends. Brenda Fallon: Affine White Girl)
This weekend marks the end of any free time I might have for a while. I am taking not one... not two... but three online courses this summer. Stupid? Probably. The odds of me holding that 4.0 GPA through the summer are not good. But I am 43. I want my Ph.D. I have to grow a pair of balls, and bust 'em relentlessly, if I'm going to make this work.
It's scary that every single person I've talked to has begged me not to do this. I can't do it. It's too much. I'll never survive. I'll be miserable. My health and my sanity will fail me.
Yeah, they're probably right. But what have I got to lose? A couple thousand in tuition and books, and a few points off my average? Eh. I've risked less and lost more. I've lived loud, fast and furiously for a couple of decades now. This would be a shitty time to turn into a milqetoast.
A small aside: Godspeed, Ms. Donna Summer. When I was a little girl in rural Washington County, I danced and sang to your music for hours on end, convinced I, too, would one day be a star. I never won a grammy, but I did trade my hairbrush for a bonafide microphone, and spent ten years as a fairly successful musician. I owe you much. Thank you.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Pink or Orange Ain't Black or White
Without the woman I can make it
But I need the girl to stay
Oh don't you let the lady take it
All away
"Turn Your Love Around"--George Benson
I finished my Science Fiction and Fantasy class final with seven minutes to spare last night. I venerated Helen O'Loy, and compared China Mieville's Avice Brenner Cho to a vibrator. Can't wait to see that grade!
I'm listening to a lot of EWF and George Benson today. Thank god I have no idea where I packed my roller skates, I can just see me deciding I'm gonna "groove tonight, share the spice of life, slice it right..." and split my forehead open in the process.
I like music that makes me feel like a girl. I LIKE BEING A GIRL! That was the thrust of my argument against Mieville's work, namely that he created a woman so asexual it was impossible to like her. I've no idea if this was his politically correct idea of what womanhood is destined to become, or just that, as a man, he royally sucks at writing from the female perspective. I find myself wondering if Embassytown would have been any more palatable written from a male standpoint. Hard to say. It was a struggle just to accept a race of giant, talking grasshoppers. Eeewwww.
The assignment, and the line from "Turn Your Love Around" have me thinking about what it means to me to be a woman. Do men really need the girl more than the woman? Do we become ladies who take the girl away from them?
I think we need to be all three, honestly. A mother is a woman, and sometimes our men are sweet boys who need to be held and loved unconditionally. Other times, they need the lady, who can charm their friends and coworkers, and get the cable guy to run that second cable even though you didn't schedule that at the time you called. And of course, they need the little girl, who appeals to their basic desire to protect and cherish. As for which one they need in the bedroom... well, isn't it obvious? All three. Sometimes at once :)
In other words, chicka, make sure you have a variety of nail polish on the vanity. Some days are cotton candy pink, others are whorange.
But I need the girl to stay
Oh don't you let the lady take it
All away
"Turn Your Love Around"--George Benson
I finished my Science Fiction and Fantasy class final with seven minutes to spare last night. I venerated Helen O'Loy, and compared China Mieville's Avice Brenner Cho to a vibrator. Can't wait to see that grade!
I'm listening to a lot of EWF and George Benson today. Thank god I have no idea where I packed my roller skates, I can just see me deciding I'm gonna "groove tonight, share the spice of life, slice it right..." and split my forehead open in the process.
I like music that makes me feel like a girl. I LIKE BEING A GIRL! That was the thrust of my argument against Mieville's work, namely that he created a woman so asexual it was impossible to like her. I've no idea if this was his politically correct idea of what womanhood is destined to become, or just that, as a man, he royally sucks at writing from the female perspective. I find myself wondering if Embassytown would have been any more palatable written from a male standpoint. Hard to say. It was a struggle just to accept a race of giant, talking grasshoppers. Eeewwww.
The assignment, and the line from "Turn Your Love Around" have me thinking about what it means to me to be a woman. Do men really need the girl more than the woman? Do we become ladies who take the girl away from them?
I think we need to be all three, honestly. A mother is a woman, and sometimes our men are sweet boys who need to be held and loved unconditionally. Other times, they need the lady, who can charm their friends and coworkers, and get the cable guy to run that second cable even though you didn't schedule that at the time you called. And of course, they need the little girl, who appeals to their basic desire to protect and cherish. As for which one they need in the bedroom... well, isn't it obvious? All three. Sometimes at once :)
In other words, chicka, make sure you have a variety of nail polish on the vanity. Some days are cotton candy pink, others are whorange.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Oh, hey, look who's back!
Could you be dead?
You always were two steps ahead
of everyone
We'd walk behind while you would run...
"Missing"--Everything But the Girl
Crazy, crazy dream last night. This song was playing, and I was being chased by China Mieville through what I believe to be the streets of Beijing. I am going to guess this was due, at least in part, to a late night snack of potstickers, which I indulged in while steadfastly avoiding my Science Fiction & Fantasy class final paper on Emabassytown.
So, I really don't have a damn thing to say today. Fortunately, that rarely stops me from--you know--saying it.
Did I mention that Mieville's limbs morphed into a hammer and sickel? It kind of makes me wish I'd practiced that whole lucid dreaming thing. I would've stopped running, whipped around, and smacked him upside the head with a copy of Road to Serfdom. Ha--take that!!!
I'm having one of those bad stretches, where I simply cannot bring myself to do all the things I need to do. Phone calls have gone unmade, as has my bed. The aforementioned sci fi paper is due in eleven hours, and the closest I've come to working on it is to open a Microsoft Word document and think "Huh, yeah, not happening." Thank god I enjoy writing on a deadline. Come 9:30 tonight, I'm going to be freaking out and typing 90 wpm--though god knows what I'll have to say.
I guess I'll make myself a strong pot of coffee and see what I can come up with. One might say this paper will require Perculean effort. If one likes bad puns, that is.
You always were two steps ahead
of everyone
We'd walk behind while you would run...
"Missing"--Everything But the Girl
Crazy, crazy dream last night. This song was playing, and I was being chased by China Mieville through what I believe to be the streets of Beijing. I am going to guess this was due, at least in part, to a late night snack of potstickers, which I indulged in while steadfastly avoiding my Science Fiction & Fantasy class final paper on Emabassytown.
So, I really don't have a damn thing to say today. Fortunately, that rarely stops me from--you know--saying it.
Did I mention that Mieville's limbs morphed into a hammer and sickel? It kind of makes me wish I'd practiced that whole lucid dreaming thing. I would've stopped running, whipped around, and smacked him upside the head with a copy of Road to Serfdom. Ha--take that!!!
I'm having one of those bad stretches, where I simply cannot bring myself to do all the things I need to do. Phone calls have gone unmade, as has my bed. The aforementioned sci fi paper is due in eleven hours, and the closest I've come to working on it is to open a Microsoft Word document and think "Huh, yeah, not happening." Thank god I enjoy writing on a deadline. Come 9:30 tonight, I'm going to be freaking out and typing 90 wpm--though god knows what I'll have to say.
I guess I'll make myself a strong pot of coffee and see what I can come up with. One might say this paper will require Perculean effort. If one likes bad puns, that is.
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