Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Saltines, peanut butter and raisins

I have a mild bout of the flu. The normal, seasonal, non-life-threatening variety. It's kind of thrown a monkey-wrench into my life though because I'm too busy to be operating below my optimal level. Which is why I hate school right now.

My friends and I mostly feel disenchanted about university. We all slaved away in high-school and frankly I think we're all still burnt out. We grew up in a culture of high achievement where fighting for credit like appellate lawyers is the norm. We're still recovering and returning to normalcy I think.

So it's hard to motivate myself to put academics above my health at the moment. All I feel like doing is eating saltines with peanut butter and raisins (don't judge), drinking tea and falling asleep. The effort required to be at the clinic by 8:30 nearly killed me, then I waited for three hours to be seen. That's a lot to ask of a sick person if you ask me, and I feel entitled to recuperate as any animal would.

But I can't deny that a little pit in my stomach is compelling me to begrudgingly turn to my work. It's going to be a long night...

Seriously Single

I've never had a boyfriend and don't really plan on having one soon.

I've never had such good friends before. I've told my friends this but I don't want to make them uncomfortable by beating them over the head with it. But it's true. There are some people I stay in touch with irregularly from home and from boarding school, but the truth is I don't think I saw more than one person on purpose last summer when I was home.

This is partially because I did go to boarding school: I decided to go and my home-town acquaintances didn't really understand why, so we lost touch. Not a super big deal anyway because I can count on both hands how many times I ever had someone come over to hang out during elementary and middle school.

I'm pretty sure that no matter who you ask, however, they'd say I am a socially competent, normally functioning person. I just have never really associated myself on an intimate level with many people. I DO connect with people on a surface level really well though, and my facebook friend-count and commute to school attest to this.

But now I feel phenomenally/wonderfully/jubilantly lucky to count myself as part of a close group of people. I am so very, very happy. Which brings me to the boyfriend issue. Because I don't want to change my friend-dynamic and because having a boyfriend would, I don't want one. This is not to say that I would have the discipline (or foolishness) to turn away Mr. Right. I'm just not interested in Mr. Right-Now.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Burberry

I am seated on my futon in the ambience of a cloudy dusk, relaxed. In order to distract myself from impending obligations I am going to write about a thing that annoys me: conspicuous consumption.

I use Burberry as a metaphor for the aforementioned sin-though some elaboration is in order to correctly articulate my feelings.

I have friends who wear burberry. The owning and wearing of expensive clothing is not something to which I am opposed. But, in my observation, many of the naked bodies clothed in dollars are ignorant about life. It is he who thinks a burberry scarf is something that people could have if they chose to spend their money on it, or they worked hard enough for it, that I loathe. He who owns an expensive article for it's quality, sentimental value or practicality, and the same is not marked by a brand to signify it's monetary value, he do I applaud.

Possession of money is largely circumstantial and is certainly not an indication of character. Nonetheless, money is viewed as a mark of prestige -or- at the very least, can have the effect of creating class distinction. Class distinction makes me uncomfortable. Truly. So, it can be said that a burberry scarf, with it's unmistakable pattern, can have the effect of making at least some people in this world uncomfortable. It is ignorance of this fact that makes me, at least initially, prejudiced against wearers of burberry.

This greatly overlaps with another thing I dislike; fashion. I classify degrees of fashion-awareness into three categories: 1) Entirely ignorant of fashion, whether or not by choice, 2) Cognizant of fashion in the sense that what is appealing changes over decades and centuries, and 3) Aware of and acting upon trends that are associated with prestige. Unless you're retarded I'm annoyed by #3. Allow me to illustrate. #1 is not a desirable state. The socially inept and hermits fall into this category. Not blind people, however... another entry, perhaps. #2 is the ideal class. You can have fun getting dressed if you're a #2 or you may be nearly indifferent about clothing. In any case you do not overly value the clothes you wear. You are a functioning member of your society however, for you notice things like; skirts that show ankles are acceptable, skirts that show thong are gross. You are, in short, the moderate, middle-ground. #3 is the class of people who care about clothing too much. If all these people became blind overnight I would bet that many would become remarkably more secure and consequently more amicable.

I shall risk being verbose and say one more thing. I do look past burberry for some people, specifically: those who prove themselves to be effusively caring and for whom money spent on exploded-check patterns is inconsequential. Cashmere-laden shoulders are fine if just beneath you find a loving heart.

The sun has set into navy night.

Beginning Anew

I've obviously not done anything with this blog for just shy of a year and while I don't feel particularly bad about that I am occasionally prone to a slight feeling of uneasiness about it. I think I'm not inclined for blog-writing; but I enjoy reading the blogs of the people I know because I feel closer to them and because they tend to wield language well, which I admire.

So: in an effort to genuinely attempt giving something close to a mediocre level of attention to my blog, I am going to try writing here again. Partially because I enjoy writing and feel that, given the chance, I could issue my own humble contribution to the literary works of cyber-space, and partially because I think I might find satisfaction in collecting and sorting my thoughts through this outlet. I am still a bit undecided about this medium... I feel self-conscious here, and why publish my thoughts to the world anyway? They are mine, after all... Nonetheless, I'm beginning anew.