In another unexpected turn of events, I woke up in a pretty good mood this morning and was actually fairly productive for the first half of the day. As a result, I kept a list of things that made me smile and/or laugh.
1. I had to stop by campus to drop off/pick up some books and as I walking back to my car, lost in some worthless inner monologue, my reverie was disrupted by what I thought was someone calling my name. I looked around for a few bewildered seconds before recognizing my advisor walking towards me. Noting my confusion, she jokingly said, "The voice of God!" to which I laughed. A sad, sad, ironic laugh at how apt her words really were....
2. Then I went to a coffeeshop to study and as I was walking up to the counter, a little girl, probably about 1 year old, walked up to the basket next to the counter, grabbed a bag of pita chips, and started to walk toward her mother a few feet away. Her mother quickly told her to put the chips back and the little girl hesitated for a few seconds while she comprehended the instructions before turning back around. But, as she returned the chips to the basket, it was like I could see the little wheels churning in her brain and I thought to myself, "do it! dooooooooooo it!!" and sure enough...she put the chips back, paused, and grabbed a different bag. Her mom kind of chuckled and I couldn't help but say, "Hey...you didn't tell her not to get another kind!" Man, I can't wait to see what kind of snide, feminist she grows up to be...
3. As I read political feminist theory, I listened to the Valentine's Day episode of All Songs Considered. You don't need to listen to the whole thing...just skip to 28:40.
Oh, and this happened.
4. As I continued reading political feminist theory, I came across the following sentence:
"One evaluates the justice of the pattern by comparing the size of the packages individuals have and comparing the total pattern to other possible patters of assignment."
All I could think to myself, in my infinite, adult wisdom was, "hee hee...it says 'size of the packages.' hee hee."
Classy.
5. Then my friend Jessie happened to wander into the coffeeshop and we talked for a bit. I can't even go on about all of the ways that this woman makes me laugh. In particular, today, was her Elmo-like impression of the (22 year old) "kids" she teaches and their childlike repetition of new words that they have learned...like "empowerment." (I know that isn't funny to you, but amongst us grad students, and especially us self-loathing feminist academics, this shit is hilarious)
So, it was a great morning. Too bad that as I drive home for lunch, I was stricken by severe stomach pains that rendered me motionless and motivationless on the couch. I'll conclude with an open letter to my stomach and the sad resignation that if I wake up happy, and remain so for a few hours, it's just a sign of terrible things to come. Lesson learned.
Dear Stomach,
I don't know if you noticed, but we're not in India anymore. This means that your severe cramping is no longer a somewhat welcome blessing for the ways in which it offers an excuse to avoid the outside world. Here, in America, I don't mind leaving the house and, in fact, not only did I want to leave the house today because it's nice outside and I had a rare rush of coffeeshop-inspired productivity, but I was looking forward to my afternoon study date and continuing my new running regimen (although I'll forgive you for screwing up the latter). So, if you could get your shit together (although, not too literally, please), and get back to American standards, I would really appreciate it.
Love,
the hand that feeds you
(And to my consistent pseudonymous commenter, while I hate to potentially preempt your creativity, I do think that writing an open response from my stomach would be appropriate here...)
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1. I had to stop by campus to drop off/pick up some books and as I walking back to my car, lost in some worthless inner monologue, my reverie was disrupted by what I thought was someone calling my name. I looked around for a few bewildered seconds before recognizing my advisor walking towards me. Noting my confusion, she jokingly said, "The voice of God!" to which I laughed. A sad, sad, ironic laugh at how apt her words really were....
2. Then I went to a coffeeshop to study and as I was walking up to the counter, a little girl, probably about 1 year old, walked up to the basket next to the counter, grabbed a bag of pita chips, and started to walk toward her mother a few feet away. Her mother quickly told her to put the chips back and the little girl hesitated for a few seconds while she comprehended the instructions before turning back around. But, as she returned the chips to the basket, it was like I could see the little wheels churning in her brain and I thought to myself, "do it! dooooooooooo it!!" and sure enough...she put the chips back, paused, and grabbed a different bag. Her mom kind of chuckled and I couldn't help but say, "Hey...you didn't tell her not to get another kind!" Man, I can't wait to see what kind of snide, feminist she grows up to be...
3. As I read political feminist theory, I listened to the Valentine's Day episode of All Songs Considered. You don't need to listen to the whole thing...just skip to 28:40.
Oh, and this happened.
4. As I continued reading political feminist theory, I came across the following sentence:
"One evaluates the justice of the pattern by comparing the size of the packages individuals have and comparing the total pattern to other possible patters of assignment."
All I could think to myself, in my infinite, adult wisdom was, "hee hee...it says 'size of the packages.' hee hee."
Classy.
5. Then my friend Jessie happened to wander into the coffeeshop and we talked for a bit. I can't even go on about all of the ways that this woman makes me laugh. In particular, today, was her Elmo-like impression of the (22 year old) "kids" she teaches and their childlike repetition of new words that they have learned...like "empowerment." (I know that isn't funny to you, but amongst us grad students, and especially us self-loathing feminist academics, this shit is hilarious)
So, it was a great morning. Too bad that as I drive home for lunch, I was stricken by severe stomach pains that rendered me motionless and motivationless on the couch. I'll conclude with an open letter to my stomach and the sad resignation that if I wake up happy, and remain so for a few hours, it's just a sign of terrible things to come. Lesson learned.
Dear Stomach,
I don't know if you noticed, but we're not in India anymore. This means that your severe cramping is no longer a somewhat welcome blessing for the ways in which it offers an excuse to avoid the outside world. Here, in America, I don't mind leaving the house and, in fact, not only did I want to leave the house today because it's nice outside and I had a rare rush of coffeeshop-inspired productivity, but I was looking forward to my afternoon study date and continuing my new running regimen (although I'll forgive you for screwing up the latter). So, if you could get your shit together (although, not too literally, please), and get back to American standards, I would really appreciate it.
Love,
the hand that feeds you
(And to my consistent pseudonymous commenter, while I hate to potentially preempt your creativity, I do think that writing an open response from my stomach would be appropriate here...)
Subscribe in a reader
2 comments:
I'm not sure who this "pseudonymous commenter" that you mention is, but I just wanted to tell you that I, Gloria Estefan, the Queen of Latin Pop and seven-time Grammy winner, am a big fan of your blog. In fact, I'm thinking of turning some of your musings into song lyrics, adding a "cha cha" background beat, and producing what will inevitably be yet another critically acclaimed, platinum-selling record. I'll have my executive secretary call your executive secretary. Hang in there, kid!
Dear Hand that Feeds Me,
First of all, thank you for your letter. Despite our close proximity, I often feel as though our relationship is lacking in genuine, open communication, and so I appreciate having this forum to hammer out our differences (though I must say that there are a surprising number of technological barriers that make it difficult for a gastrological organ to gain direct access to the internet for the purpose of replying to a blog post – under the circumstances, I feel like I have reason to be quite proud of myself). I’ll get right to the point.
Listen, here’s the problem: I am feeling a bit neglected of late. Gone are the halcyon days on the Indian subcontinent where, despite my frequent difficulties in handling some of the Salmonella-laden local fare, I felt very close to you, as we operated as a team working against a common enemy. Your concern for my well-being was palpable, and although it may sound trite, I felt genuinely “loved.”
Now, those days are gone. You don’t seem to devote very much consideration to me at all. Sure, you go to great lengths to please my colleague – the tongue – with various delightful, sumptuous treats, but as I am entirely lacking in taste buds, those qualities are completely lost on me. Moreover, I can’t help but notice that quite a number of your other organs seem to be enjoying a great deal of your focus and attention these days. From what little I can tell, for instance, you seem to be locked into some sort of protracted suicide attempt involving cramming utterly worthless information into your head at a rate that both exceeds the constraints of good judgment and will almost certainly lead to your eventual doom through a massive aneurysm. However, your brain has rarely gotten such sustained, focused attention, and from what I understand is quite content to be the center of your world at the moment. Similarly – and I do want to be delicate about this – my co-workers in your nether-regions are having a wonderful time thanks to the recent introduction of some sort of oblong electronic device that, frankly, I do not care for, as it seems to entail far more gyration and shaking about than I ordinarily endorse. Frankly, it’s unseemly. But where, I ask you, in all of this is your old friend and fellow traveler, the stomach?
You’ve forgotten about me. You’ve neglected me. And now, just as a child attempts to draw the attention of an uninterested parent by crying out and having a tantrum, I am attempting to re-draw your focus using the only coin of my realm: sharp, piercing pain. The battle lines are drawn, and you can rest assured that I will never tire, never waver, never stray from my chosen course until my one simple demand is met. I ask only this: PAY ATTENTION TO ME! If anyone can understand this need, surely it is you.
Warm regards,
Your Stomach
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