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Thursday, July 11, 2002

Oh so gloriously cool today, which puts me in a good humor--I feel uncharacteristically moved to join in the recent thing-going-around, with deletions and addenda, some swiped from Te:

Fandom Character You'd Most Like to...

--spend the rest of your life with in perfect bliss: There is NO one I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. I don't even want to spend the rest of my life with me. However, if I had to have someone around long-term, I could see Oz, because he's kind of restful--low on the psychological-imperialism scale--and because I really would love to see how he ages.

--have an emotionally void but wicked hot one-night stand with: Several good candidates here, but I'd say Joe Dick. Heh. And then kick his ass out in the morning.

--get wasted with: Joe Dawson. Several of my fandom faves seem to be bad drunks--Spike gets self-absorbed, Mulder gets maudlin--but I think Joe would be a great drinking buddy. Or maybe Giles... <pondering> ... actually, both of 'em. Get wasted, listen to old music, reminisce about the '60s and our misspent youths ...

--employ as a live-in masseur: Mmm. Duncan, I think, although I'd delete the "live-in" part. He could come around sometimes and rub me, though. Good hands.

--go on a road trip with: Methos. Absolutely.

--go to a strip club with: Fraser. Cause you know it'd be fun, right? plus we could sit and have a cool conversation about the sociological/anthropological aspects of the rituals being enacted.

--go to the gym with: RayK. Cause, dude, I could probably out-bench him. I could take that skinny boy. (And then he could take me ..... mmmmmmm ..... <slapslapslap>)

--sprawl on the couch and snark at crappy movies with: Methos on one side, Mulder on the other. Let the snarkage fly.

--go shopping with: Fraser, cause he'd hate it as much as I do, and we could get out fast. And go to a strip club.

--pair up to work a case as a team, not for any slashy hot-sex factor, but just because I'd love to see how they'd work and talk together: Fraser and Frank Pembleton.

Posted @ 07:57 AM CST [Link]8 comments

Wednesday, July 10, 2002

(1) It has finally (if only temporarily) cooled down. (2) I only have two more days of orientation to go.

Hence, I may live.

The last few days of orientation are always stressful as hell, because so many classes and sections have filled up, and the students who keep trooping in have fewer and fewer options. As an advisor, I live right at the hinge between two different realities:

--that of the student: "Dude, I'm finally out of high school! I'm in college! I can finally take courses I want to take, and sleep in in the mornings, and ... whattaya mean all these courses I want are closed, and all that's left is intermediate algebra at 8 a.m.???"
--that of the administration: "We have lots of seats left in 8 a.m. algebra! So what if the student doesn't want to take it--hey, math is good for you! It's a course, it's credits, suck it up and deal! We gotta fill those chairs!"

The students, of course, aren't privy to the constraints the administration is working under--the popular courses that had to be cancelled because of faculty illnesses or sabbaticals, or because hiring freezes left us short of instructors; the wonky scheduling because there aren't enough classrooms because the legislature voted down the building appropriation. The administration, on the other hand, isn't brought face to face on an hourly basis with the disappointment of students whose dream of finally being able to take the classes they want to take has just been squelched, and the laborious task of trying to sell a disappointed 18-year-old on the benefits of 8 a.m. algebra.

None of this is major trauma, of course, it's just the grind of imperfect reality. Part of the reality of college is learning to live with fifteen weeks of courses you don't especially want at times you'd rather be doing something else. I know a big part of my own unhappiness with the situation is projection; to me, college was all about busting loose from the hateful lockstep regimen of high school and finally getting a chance to learn, to plunge into all the things that really excited me. I still have a big emotional investment in the fantasy that college means following your intellectual bliss. It bothers me that so often, for all parties involved, it's really more a matter of "just get the credits, get the degree, get out the door." But that's my issue, and I shouldn't be projecting it onto everyone else.

Posted @ 08:06 AM CST [Link]4 comments

Sunday, July 7, 2002

Follow-up to last posting: Atanarjuat is stunning. Not just visually gorgeous, but really epic, in a way that (as far as I'm concerned) George Lucas could only dream of achieving. The film was shot on a limited budget, with few actors and no special effects, under what must have been hellishly difficult physical circumstances; it derives its epic sweep from the emotional power of the story, the unactorish authenticity of the actors, and the integrity with which it presents an entire culture. I was knocked out.

My advice:
(1) Go see it. A list of cities/theatres where it will be appearing is here.
(2) It probably wouldn't hurt to read over the synopsis of the legend behind the film before going, unless you're fiercely anti-spoilers-of-any-sort. My one criticism of the film is that the backstory given in the opening sequences is rather confusing; I was pretty much "huh???" for the first fifteen minutes or so.
(3) Bear in mind it's almost three hours long. I didn't notice this while I was watching, being thoroughly rapt, but it's not a movie to bring any short-attention-span friends to.
(4) Don't go expecting typical Hollywood fare. It's not. Thank god.

Posted @ 07:49 PM CST [Link]2 comments

torch has a blog! torch has a blog! torch has a blog! torch has a blog!
Wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And in much less interesting news, I am returned to health today and will shut up on that incredibly boring topic now. Except to say that there are two pleasant aspects to illness; one is the passive vacuous pleasure of watching one's brain on lightly-fevered lateral drift, floating and eddying around randomly like smoke; and the other is the return to health, not just in the sense of "I'm banging my head against the wall because it feels so good when I stop," but more in that it brings a conscious awareness of health--feeling good, having energy--thus bringing to the foreground something that is usually backgrounded, taken for granted.

It's a gestalt kind of thing, foreground/background flipflop, negative space/positive space. It's like -- well, it's like the air, on this intensely and suffocatingly humid morning. Usually air is simply nothingness, the negative space within which everything else exists. But today the air is a tangible, palpable thing in itself, and I can feel it pressing damply and heavily against every square millimeter of my skin, against my hair, against the leaves on the tree in the backyard, lying on the earth like a weight. If I took my big chef's knife and went out on the back deck, I think I could make six clean slices and cut myself a cube of air and hold it in my hand, wet and quivering, like a blob of jello.

Kalena and I are going to see Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner today. This is by repute the Great Inuit Movie and an excellent piece of filmmaking, and I think should be the perfect thing to watch on a sodden July day.

Posted @ 07:06 AM CST [Link]2 comments