Most women do, secretly, says Maureen Dowd. We're taught to want that, just as we are conditioned to think feminism is about ugly women who hate men. Lies, all lies. Read this column for some more insight. I don't usually like Maureen Dowd, but I think she nailed it here.
NY Times column
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
King of the Geeks
My professor for Epic Politics in Film is an insane old coot. He is tall and has large nostrils, so everyone can see up his nose as he towers above the class. He has a salt and pepper beard and stands with his hands clasped behind his back. His stomach is round and stretches the fronts of his sweater vests.
Theoretically, the class is about the ways epic films provide us with political myths. Practically, the class is an excuse for the professor to talk about swords, wars, the Lord of the Rings and other topics close to the hearts of geeks everywhere. There are four or five of these geeks in the class. Mostly males, they are the students who scream "Arwen!" in unison if someone has trouble recalling the name of the elf princess. They are not embarrassed by their knowledge, nor reticent about sharing.
My professor revels in this sea of useless trivia. He is the King of the Geeks and presides gloatingly over his geekdom. He asks the class what the design on Frodo's sword looks like, then bellows, "Oh, come on!" when no one has a clue. Sometimes even the other geeks let him down. He watches each film once, then watches it again with the commentary. He loves the commentaries--they drip with geekiness.
I must admit that I am somewhat of a geek. I love the Lord of Rings and have read all the books. I have a subscription to National Geographic. I play sometimes computer games. Yet, I am not in the company of the true geeks, the ones who own a replica of the "one ring" and dream of naming their first-born after a character. My professor named his daughter Arwen. But what else would the King of the Geeks name his princess? As for me, I am content to stay on the fringes of geekiness where I can watch the occasional episode of Days of Our Lives and not feel ashamed.
Theoretically, the class is about the ways epic films provide us with political myths. Practically, the class is an excuse for the professor to talk about swords, wars, the Lord of the Rings and other topics close to the hearts of geeks everywhere. There are four or five of these geeks in the class. Mostly males, they are the students who scream "Arwen!" in unison if someone has trouble recalling the name of the elf princess. They are not embarrassed by their knowledge, nor reticent about sharing.
My professor revels in this sea of useless trivia. He is the King of the Geeks and presides gloatingly over his geekdom. He asks the class what the design on Frodo's sword looks like, then bellows, "Oh, come on!" when no one has a clue. Sometimes even the other geeks let him down. He watches each film once, then watches it again with the commentary. He loves the commentaries--they drip with geekiness.
I must admit that I am somewhat of a geek. I love the Lord of Rings and have read all the books. I have a subscription to National Geographic. I play sometimes computer games. Yet, I am not in the company of the true geeks, the ones who own a replica of the "one ring" and dream of naming their first-born after a character. My professor named his daughter Arwen. But what else would the King of the Geeks name his princess? As for me, I am content to stay on the fringes of geekiness where I can watch the occasional episode of Days of Our Lives and not feel ashamed.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Stranger than Fiction
A bizarre Iowa moment, brought to you by me. If you read nothing else this week, read the story at this link. To understand it properly, you may need to read it twice.
Fairfield Ledger story
Fairfield Ledger story
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Fall is Nice
Ahh, fall. It seems I can't go a year without reflecting on my favorite season. Perhaps I like it because my birthday's in fall. But I don't want to talk about my birthday as I seem to be having a bit of a quarter life crisis. So, I also like fall because of the leaves and the wind and the hot chocolate and sweaters and cornstalks and Halloween cookies and pumpkins and creepy dark evenings. And then in November there's Thanksgiving, a wonderful holiday devoted to food. How can anyone not like fall?
Fall is when good movies start to come out. Only a little over a month until Harry Potter! The only bad thing about fall is that it is cold. I hate being cold. I am cold constantly from mid-October until April. Two years ago my grandma sent me long underwear, and I have big furry boots, but I am still cold. But I guess coldness is a small price to pay for all the other things I love.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
My New Haircut
Just in case you were wondering. I look sort of mad in this picture. Sorry. I like the haircut though.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Mis-takes
I often think back to what Anne Shirley says: "Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it yet." How comforting, especially since I make so many mistakes. And I make the same ones over and over, but at least I know I get another chance tomorrow.
The mistakes range from small to large. For instance, today I dropped a plate holding half a cake I had made. The plate shattered into tiny glass shards, and the cake landed on top of the glass. That was a small, though vexing, mistake.
A larger mistake is ignoring people because I'm too scared to talk to them. This is a mistake I make almost every day. You would think I would learn, and I do. I know exactly what I'm doing, but I can't seem to help it. But at least I get another chance tomorrow. I can have another "take."
Yesterday I made the mistake of eating a piece of leftover pizza before bed.
Tomorrow I'm getting my hair cut--I hope that won't be a mistake.
Smaller mistakes are more obvious. The largest mistakes--a marriage, a job, a life--don't become obvious till much later, if at all. I fear that we are usually oblivious to our worst mistakes while we're making them. So I won't cry over spilled cake. I wish I could say I do the best I can, but at least I get the chance to do better tomorrow.
The mistakes range from small to large. For instance, today I dropped a plate holding half a cake I had made. The plate shattered into tiny glass shards, and the cake landed on top of the glass. That was a small, though vexing, mistake.
A larger mistake is ignoring people because I'm too scared to talk to them. This is a mistake I make almost every day. You would think I would learn, and I do. I know exactly what I'm doing, but I can't seem to help it. But at least I get another chance tomorrow. I can have another "take."
Yesterday I made the mistake of eating a piece of leftover pizza before bed.
Tomorrow I'm getting my hair cut--I hope that won't be a mistake.
Smaller mistakes are more obvious. The largest mistakes--a marriage, a job, a life--don't become obvious till much later, if at all. I fear that we are usually oblivious to our worst mistakes while we're making them. So I won't cry over spilled cake. I wish I could say I do the best I can, but at least I get the chance to do better tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
