Interrogative

You know how, sometimes, it's a week before the end of term, and you have a theory paper to write? But no one else has been turning up for classes, so the whole atmosphere of the department has been unusually relaxed, so it sort of feels like term has ended anyway? So you're sitting at your desk, and you have your theory article all set, and you've collected all the background material you think you'll need to critique it, but your brain is four feet away, in its pajamas in bed, having a Harry Potter DVD marathon, and it's all "Oh, sorry, did we have a paper to write? I kinda don't feel like it now. I'll get back to you later."? And the worst part is that you have five weeks off for spring holidays, but you're going to have to spend them writing your mini-dissertation and inking your drawings for Archaeological Illustration and putting your journal together for your experimental class, so your brain shouldn't be over there watching DVDs anyway?

Just me, then? Yeah, it usually is.

The Unspeakable Madness of Region Codes

So I'm thinking that I might have to come up with a system of colored stickers, or something, because I am driving myself crazy with DVDs.

My little region-free portable DVD player is on its last legs - it's nearly unwatchable at this point, because it keeps adjusting the contrast all by itself so that the entire screen slides back and forth between completely white and completely black. So I can't really use it anymore, which is sad. But I have a portable Region 2 player that I got on deep discount right after Christmas. And I can play Region 1 DVDs on my computer. I can also play Region 2 DVDs on it, but this requires at least 30 minutes of preparation and some illegal software, plus I have to save the movie as a file, and my external hard drive is almost full, so I just use the new portable for Region 2's.

And msot of my movies are on the hard drive anyway, but I also have about 50 DVDs that I have picked up since I got here (because it costs 3 pounds to borrow them from the library, but if they are older I can get them on sale at HMV or on Amazon for 4 pounds. See, it actually does make sense. I realize that there is a third option here, and that option is JUST WATCH WHAT YOU ALREADY HAVE, but I am a movie whore and cannot do that for long, alas). And they are a mix of Regions 1 and 2. And this is why I am going insane. Because I have to remember that, for instance, all my X-Files are Region 1, except for season 3, which is Regon 2 because David got it for me for my birthday and he used Amazon. co.uk. And I bought that one on Amazon.co.uk, but it's Region 1 because it never came out in England, and my parents brought me this one for Christmas, so it's Region 1, but I got its sequel here so that's Region 2, etc. And yes, it does say on the cases which region it is, and also the Region 2 ones have the British age rating system on them, but I am apparently really talented at absent-mindedly sticking the DVD in the wrong player, because I evidently enjoy error messages. I need big, obvious stickers.

I would, someday, like to have all my DVDs in one country (preferably this one - I forsee a lot of going home for Christmas with empty suitcases in my future) and this is not good. I may as well start using a sticker system now, or resign myself to keeping Region 1 DVDs and player in one room, and Region 2's in an entirely separate one. You know. When I'm rich.

Oh Well, It's Not Like I Was Using That Anyway

So, having gotten over my sinus issues, which I got as soon as I got over my stomach issues, I now have a cough. It's ugly and hacking and thoroughly unpleasant to listen to, which is why I'm glad I have my own room. Anyway, I developed it last night while I was sprawled in bed watching bad movies, and I kind of went "Oh hell," but it's not like I could go out at 10 pm and get something to take care of it.

So this morning, I got up and went about my business as usual (well, not as usual, really, because I spent all morning throwing failed drawings in the trash, but we won't go there right now because there's a very long story with embarrassing components) and went out around 11 pm to get lunch. And the girl at the counter asked me if I needed a carrier bag, and I said "No thank you," only actually, I didn't, because I had lost my voice. And I had no idea until that point because that was the first time I had spoken all day.

I'm not sure at what point my voice came back, because I didn't need to say anything further until about 5 pm when I went out to get dinner, and at that point I could speak.

And I'm telling this story because - this is fairly typical of a day when I don't have class. I don't talk except when I have to go out to get food, and usually the only thing I say then is "Thanks," when I get my change. And I don't have to speak much in class, either. In fact, I think the most I say all week is when I spend 10 minutes every Thursday presenting my seminar readings for that day. It's actually kind of alarming how much I don't need to speak anymore.

So, you know. The cough is annoying, but the accompanying loss of my voice? Not so upsetting.

Accents

I was just talking to NephthysWrath about this, and I figured I have more to say and I don't think I can finish my seminar reading right now anyway, so...here I am.

I'm never going to lose my accent. There's an American professor in the archaeology department who has been here for God knows how many years, and he has no trace of a British accent. None of the other American students have picked one up. It just doesn't happen once you pass a certain age. You do pick up the slang - you have to because you would sound silly otherwise. I started accidentally using it to my parents about 10 weeks ago (they kindly point out when I do it by mocking me mercilessly for hours afterwards.) So I find myself irrationally annoyed by undergrads who come over for, like, three months and begin pretending that they have picked up the accent and just can't help using it. No you haven't, you poseur.

The other thing is - they're obviously doing it because Americans fetishize the British accent in a way that is completely creepy. No, I'm serious. Think about it. If my situation were reversed, and I were a British student going to school in the States right now, I would be wildly uncomfortable at least 75% of the time. Americans are weird about British accents. And it's nice for me because no one is weird about American accents over here (well, no one I've met, anyway.) At least, I have yet to have anyone act weird about my accent. Occasionally someone will make conversation with me about the States based on my accent (they sometimes ask whether I'm American or Canadian first) but mostly I get treated like I don't have one, which is fine with me. Sometimes people will look slightly taken aback when they ask me for directions to the train station and I answer, and sometimes I will ask someone for directions and they will ask how familiar I am with the city before they answer, but that is perfectly acceptable behavior. But I think, if I were British and in America, I would have been subjected to a lot of enthusiastic and uncomfortable conversations by now.

I actually had a friend here tell me a story about job hunting in America, and being offered a job after she phoned the company for the fist time, based solely on the fact that she had a British accent. I mean, really. Weird. Why are we so weird about accents?

Dissertations

We all (well, the archaeology department's MA students, anyway) have to do a mini-dissertation this semester, apparently to prove that we do indeed have research skills (a good idea in my case, as everyone else has written a dissertation before, and I've only had The Shitty Senior Thesis Show of Infamy) and so we can maybe use this as a stepping stone to the actual dissertation, which we do this summer. And basically, we can do whatever we want, as long as we can somehow vaguely relate it to archaeology. So I picked a topic in paleopathology. And now I am learning the pitfalls of getting to do extensive research in your favorite subject. The books you need are always shelved with other books you do not need, but which appear irresistibly fascinating. So, every time I go to the library, I come back with one or two books that I will actually use for the mini-dissertation, and five or six that have nothing to do with my subject but which I absolutely need to read immediately. I did not have this problem when I had to do art theory research, because reading more that I needed to would have caused my brain to break down. But now? I spend more time reading books I picked up on a whim than I do reading books that I'm actually going to use. It's very bad.

I actually asked my mother if she could maybe send me some journal articles, because I am even worse when it comes to databases. "Ooo, this article doesn't really have anything to do with my subject, but it looks so interesting. I'll just take a few minutes to read it, and then I'll get back to what I'm supposed to be doing." And then five hours later I finally tear myself away from the database because I'm starving, but have accomplished nothing except to become very well-informed about a subject that is tangentially related to what I'm supposed to be researching.

It's going to be a very long summer, isn't it?

Is February over yet?

I'm having another bad week, and I'm kind of annoyed about it all.

First of all, my overhead light fixture has been broken since the 11th (the bulb burned out, I tried to put another one in, and the socket just crumbled away, which was terrifying). And it took me until last Tuesday to get down to the office to put in a work order because I was so sick that week that I just didn't care. And the socket was only fixed today. Dude, it was not that big a deal. And they put a fluorescent bulb in, and it's making all my food look unappetizing, but I am afraid to put another bulb in because an electrical socket crumbling under your fingers is kind of a scary experience.

And I do not need my food to look unappetizing, because I am having a problem with that. I am really irritated with my body right now. I never gained back all the weight I lost from being sick, probably because my stomach is all shrunken now. And while I'm sure I'm supposed to be ecstatic about all this, because I will be the first to admit that I do need to lose weight, I lost it so fast and in such an unhealthy manner that now my entire lower abdomen has handfuls of loose skin (I can pull out about an inch and a half of just skin) and it is unbelievably disgusting. NephthysWrath pointed out that if I would just drink something besides soda and remember to put on lotion more than twice a month the skin would probably tighten up, but I reserve the right to be annoyed about it, because all this floppy loose skin makes me feel even fatter. Plus, now none of my jeans fit and having jeans that bag at the hips, butt, and thighs is not flattering.

So I went for a walk this evening because I hoped it would help my appetite come back, but I still don't want my dinner and now on top of it all I miss my telescope. This is one of the things that I normally try not to think about, but the sky was clear, Venus was out, my entire favorite section of the sky is out during early evening (Orion, the Pleiades, and Canis Major and Minor) and I will not have a telescope again for a very long time. I can't have one now anyway, what with living in a dorm and all, but once I do have an apartment it will probably be in a city so I don't have to deal with getting a car, and the light pollution will be prohibitive (and without a car I can't go out to a field somewhere in the middle of nowhere to get away from the light pollution.) And if I ever do get to have a telescope again, it will have to be a new one that I buy here. I love the one I have now, but it's a reflector telescope, so it's an absolute monster - four feet long, and with a swivelling wooden stand that probably weighs 30 pounds - and there is no way I can afford to ship it to England, especially if I want it to arrive without being knocked irrevocably out of alignment.

And finally, my archaeological illustration class is making me insane. I'm taking it because I know I can get a job doing it, but I'm beginning to realize that if I am unfortunate enough to have to actually take a job doing archaeological illustration I will probably throw myself off a tall building within days. I should be good at it, but instead it is the bane of my existence. It combines all the worst qualities of graphic design with the dullness of drafting, so I am bad at it and it makes me want to stab myself in the eye. The part of me that is still an artist spends most of the time shrieking "WHY ARE WE USING THIS TERRIBLE PAPER?" while my inner 2-year-old reacts as usual to the fact that neatness counts for more than talent, and has tantrums. On top of all this the instructor seriously dislikes me, and I can't really blame him - I'm so bad at it that it must be painful to observe, and also I haven't been able to come in to work during the week because of illness, so he thinks I'm a lazy, untalented slacker.

Oh yes, and my sinuses are acting up yet again, which they do every couple of months or so, but this time the Sudafed, which normally makes it stop within a few days, is not working. I don't know what to do. I was just a little stuffy at night for a couple of weeks, which was obnoxious but certainly not the end of the world, but now I've reached the stage where I spend all night with a sore throat and can't sleep because of it.

And yet I am kind of proud of myself, because if I were having a month like this at USC, I would have just folded up and probably had a meltdown, or at least called home in tears several times. Now? I'm okay. Annoyed, but okay.

Vampires

So I started reading Twilight, partly out of curiosity and partly because that book eats people's brains and I wanted to prove I was immune. (Don't worry, I didn't pay any money for it. The Internet and the PDF are both marvellous inventions.) To my intense relief, I am indeed immune. Thank God. I don't think I could stand the humiliation of liking that book. And this is why I will not be finishing it or touching any of the ones that come after it.

First of all, I am not a vampire girl anyway. I'm a werewolf girl. I'm pretty sure there's some unflattering psychology here (I'm extremely anal-retentive, and it would be nice to run around uncontrolled for a few nights a month) but vampires don't interest me and werewolves do. There are werewolves in Twilight, but they suck. And that's all I have to say about that.

And also, in terms of unconventional vampires, no one beats Pamela Dean's Dominic Hardy, the thinking vampire. I love Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary more than any 24-year-old has a right to, and I dragged my copy to England even though it's a hardcover my parents found for me and it weighs about 10 pounds (the book has been out of print for years, and I used to monopolize the library's copy.) To be fair, I mostly love that book for its literary references, and I am still trying to work my way through all of them even though I started around the age of 14. Dominic himself barely interests me at all, but I've spent nearly ten years trying to track down the sources of all his riddles and quotations. Edward never had a chance. His banal conversation bores the snot out of me. This weekend, I will be reading Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary for the 694306648396th time to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

Stephanie Meyer's writing is completely lacking in elegance. Someone buy that woman a thesaurus. And also, her foreshadowing? My God, hit me over the head with a bigger Unsubtlety Hammer. "No one's going to bite me in this town," har har har.

A minor, more specific peeve - you just moved somewhere, people are trying to be friendly to you, and you sneer at them and can't be bothered to remember their names? Come on, that's just shitty.

And finally, as I suspected, I was completely unable to identify with her vapid female character. I can only identify with extremely strong women. This is why I adore Connie Willis, Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell, J. K. Rowling, Terry Pratchett, and other people who are capable of writing these kinds of women, women with definite personalities. The point is not that they defy society's expectations. What interests me is when they question these expectations and decide on their own whether or not they want to go along with them or walk away. Feminism, as I understand it, is about choice. It is just as acceptable for a woman to become a housewife and raise children as it is for her to earn three doctorates and work in a research lab and never marry. The point is to think about it and decide for yourself. Stephanie Meyer's "heroine" never even stops to think about whether she has a choice, and what she wants for herself, and that is what makes me ill. I cannot identify with women who blindly stumble along the path they are expected to follow without even stopping to think about their other options. It is hard to enjoy a book when you spend most of it alternately sneering and gagging at the heroine and declaring, out loud, approximately every other page, "You. Are. Pathetic."

Yes, yes, I know, don't hold back, tell us how you really feel, etc. I believe my point was that I hate these books even more than I expected to, and since I expected to want to burn them after reading, which goes completely against my normal attitude towards books (save them all!) that is extremely impressive. I was prepared to cut them some slack, being written for teenagers and all, and by all means, read and appreciate them for the trash they are, but good lord, now that I've looked at them I don't understand how anyone can genuinely like them and take them seriously. The die-hard fans scared me quite enough before, but now I'm afraid that if I encounter any of them in real life they'll get their crazy all over me, because it's clearly spilling out of their pores and oozing out into the air around them. Maybe the remaining uncontaminated population should be issued with Hazmat suits.

The best part? I know from reading other peoples' synopses that there is even more terrifying crazy to come, and I couldn't even make it that far before I had to give up. Jeebus.