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Sunday, November 23rd, 2003Last night I tried to explain to Lara how the last week�s myriad of revelations makes me feel. I settled on �schizophrenic�, but that�s not really it. I feel like I don�t know how I feel, like I have innumerable incongruous emotions about each separate thing. In short, it�s confusing being me, and more so when I don�t have any means of working through it all, and no great desire to explore them all with yous* in this neat little forum I�ve created for myself. Because, you see, I have these things called essays, and I need to work through deciphering them before I can decipher myself. Sucks to be a scholar. Though talking like that could solve all my problems, I suppose. I wonder what would happen if my essay for Reading Medieval Literature contained the phrase �Chaucer�s polysemous narrative encourages his reader to consider the sources of their stories rather than blindly accepting the morals therein articulated like a bunch of ignorant sucks.� It would be a novel interpretation, anyway. After all my weeks here (10 already!) I thought I would be getting used to the little differences, but I find that tiny things can still freak me out. I may have mentioned this before, but one of the things that consistently weirds me is the fact that they keep the eggs in the grocery stores in the baking/breads section, not in the refrigerated aisles. Is this not bizarre? This week�s freakiness is a lot more shocking I think: when I hand in my essays, I have to hand in a floppy disc with the file on it as well. It�s not that I find handing in a computerized copy strange, I actually think it�s really cool. Maybe someday I�ll be able to simply email my essays in instead of sprinting to the English department. But on a floppy disc? What is that? Who has floppy discs anymore? My iBook doesn�t even have a disc drive, nor have any of the computers my family has owned in the past eight or so years. Fortunately, R. has a disc drive in her laptop, and there are blueberry iMacs in the library with external disc drives beside each, so it�s not a problem to get it on a disc in time. But still. Honestly, I don�t want to be condescending or anything, but sometimes living here is like living in the stone ages. Or at least the eighties. Same difference.
* This is my other recent discovery. Apparently, �yous� is in wide use here as second person plural. While I used to think it a ridiculous mistake in proper English, I have become quite fond of it of late. It makes me giggle, and now I want to use it all the time. How does that make yous feel?
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