look, culture just always applies

oh how tumultuous everything is! not necessarily in a bad way...just in a tumultuous way. which is why i used that adjective. but i've got one presentation down, one to go tomorrow, and one next week. and three papers, but those are all linked to the presentations. and i feel like i have a cold coming.

but i must admit that part of me feels great joy at the thought of being done with this semester…especially being done with certain classes in which the professor says that "culture doesn't apply in this case."

???

how can culture NOT apply? ever?

o, canada

another classic from hark! a vagrant:

my ticket is blank

i'm pretty sure that i dreamed of sister act last night. why? i really can't say.

but other than that weirdness, life is…well, it's mix of everything right now. moments of panic about what i'll do after i graduate, then moments of sunny bliss in the time i've been spending lately with a wonderful person. in between all of that i get some work done, but it's a bit like being on a fast train to an uncertain destination, and not being quite sure of how to get there. i've got to finish projects, and find a career. or at least something that will pay me decently. my train ticket would say "destination unknown," if you want to be real poetic about it.

maybe a train is the wrong metaphor, since obviously you would just follow the tracks to get to wherever you're going. but it is the right metaphor in the sense that it's something moving, and moving quickly, and i can't stop it. graduation is coming. what would jane do?

mr. knightly tells emma that "there is one thing, emma, which a man can always do if he chooses, and that is his duty; not by maneuvering and finessing, but by vigour and resolution." well i can be vigorous! i can be resolute. although i may have to use some of that maneuvering and finessing, just in case.

i wonder what austen would do in a graduate program. i wonder what program she would choose? oh jane!

fashion...it's within all of us

ok, so i think i finally figured out what to focus my fashion/consumerism/gender identity project on. thank heavens. here it is:

the question: how does mainstream fashion and consumerism dictate, influence, or offer an alternative to a middle-class, white, heterosexual identity? the discussion i want to center in on is specifically, how white, middle-class, heterosexual identity is promoted through clothing retail and shopping-centered literature, and how the public responds to this. the popularity of narratives like Confessions of a Shopaholic suggests that the white, middle-class, heterosexual image being portrayed in the narrative, is positively received by a large population, despite the probable evidence that this narrative hardly reflects the reality of its readers. why? if fashion consumption and fashion-narratives that promote a certain dominant image, are widely received even if they are unrealistic, then either the public sees itself as part of that identity whether or not they are, or else the public sees something else within the discourse of mainstream fashion and consumerism that it identifies with.

i like when people say they're not influenced by fashion. guess what: unless you make your own homespun broadcloth out of plant fibers you've picked yourself from a nearby field, with a machine you've handcrafted out of parts of trees that you found in the woods, then you are influenced by fashion.

at bedtime, go to sleep

yesterday we had a lecture for the LCS students on the joys and difficulties of academic conference panels, after which we all headed over to our advisor, Kathy Newman's, for some dinner, drinks and prospective MA/PhD-welcoming. they are a great group and hopefully we'll have a good many of them decide to come here in the fall.

the above image depicts the household rules, as written by David Shumway's little boy, for all to see and abide by. my favorite is "feelings under controll."

and naturally, i obeyed all the rules, including the one about sleeping. at about 10:30, i decided it was bedtime and hightailed it out of there with Brittany, took the 61C back home, and fell blissfully asleep.

too bad i had a bad dream that night, though, that i was married to Hungarian composer Franz Liszt. i guess playing by the rules doesn't always pay off.