I’m on a train and, it’s moving fast and, I’ve been sitting in here for way too long, man.
[Blogger's Note: I feel I should note at this juncture that this was written yesterday, when I was in fact on a train (as my loving Lonely Island ripoff would suggest), rather than today, when I am simply hopelessly late because I completely failed to post this yesterday evening. Forgive me.]
I went home this weekend for Passover seder, which was a first for me; usually I just stay at school and think longingly of all the delicious food my family is eating without me. Freshman year I went to the Wesleyan seder, which was pretty good, although I was thrown off a little by the fact that we used fairly conventional Haggadahs rather than the goofy hippy ones that are a tradition at my house. Sophomore year I believe I had a night class at the same time, and I ended up prioritizing that over a ritual I enjoy, but don’t particularly believe in. I tend to be more of a cultural Jew than a religious one, which means that I’ll talk about matzah ball soup and macaroons until the cows come home, but I tend to answer all questions about belief with a question mark. I guess that makes me an agnostic or something? I don’t know, I don’t really bother labeling it. The closest I’ve gotten to contemplating the mysteries of the universe recently was the time I spent an hour boggling over how the internet works.
Seriously, though. A series of mysterious “protocols” that connect our computers despite not having any shared servers or anything? That shit is magical.
…You’re probably laughing at me right now, aren’t you. It wouldn’t surprise me.
[Under the cut: A recap of my week and a brief analogy about analogies.]
Anyway, that was only Friday. Monday I went to a Wesleyan Musical Theater Collective meeting, which was pretty awesome. I’ve realized that last year, I was content with the short story that we were adapting (Oscar Wilde’s very funny The Canterville Ghost, for newcomers), but this year I’m actually really excited about it, which makes a surprisingly big difference. Hopefully the process and end result will live up to my enthusiasm.
On Tuesday I went to see Amitav Ghosh’s reading and Q&A session. He’s a pretty well-known author, apparently; admittedly, I would have had no idea who he was if not for the fact that one of my professors assigned us his book, but I am occasionally a plebian. It’s a sad fact, but true.
Here is where I should confess that if I had to choose between being a popular author and being one of those super-critically-acclaimed authors who don’t sell a lot of books outside of particular circles, I would probably choose the former. I mean, I’d like to be a good author, obviously, but all of my favorite books have been ones that appealed to a broader audience and don’t require a degree in English literature to understand. Terry Pratchett, JK Rowling… I just want stories with interesting plots, moments of humor, and characters that I can like — things that I can think about without necessarily having to struggle for. Those were the books that shaped my life.
Plus, being a popular author would pay the rent a lot better. Just saying.
On Wednesday I’m actually not sure that I did anything. I might have just holed myself up in my room after work and then just done homework for a while. (Or, really, procrastinated on homework for a while. Whichever.)
This week I’ve been working on revising a creative essay for my nonfiction class. It’s been a bit of an arduous task, because I have a really hard time editing after the fact. I get stuck in this mental rut where I simultaneously hate everything about the piece and yet can’t figure out how to fix it. Plus, because I’m an incredibly self-indulgent writer, there are always little bits that I know I probably should take out, but I’m so fond of them that I just want to keep them in there and hope that nobody will notice.
(A lot of these things are analogies. I love analogies. One day I’m going to get a story back from a professor saying, “Sasha, your use of analogies is a lava-filled thundercloud hovering over this piece, just waiting to unleash a destructive storm of hellfire upon everything you’ve worked so hard to build. Also, you use too many semi-colons.”
In this particular essay, I had a brief footnoted segment where I compared various academic disciplines to different kinds of pie, which a few of the people in my TA group actually really liked. The professor seemed iffy about it, though, and looking at the paper again, I could see that it probably didn’t really fit with the rest of the piece, so alas, out it went.
For the record: apple pie is literary criticism — “A classic, but in the wrong hands, it’s gooey, hard to get through, and sticks to your teeth when you chew”; sociology is quiche, “Adaptable to almost any flavor”; philosophy is steak and kidney pie — “Only found in certain places and a little too heavy for most people”; and politics, finally, is shoofly pie, about which all I said was, “Attracts flies. Also you can’t eat too much of it without feeling sort of disgusting.”
I put thought into that one, okay. I did research. Writing is a cold, cruel endeavor.)
On Thursday, after my night class, I dragged my former roommate to the Drag Show/Queer Prom with me for about an hour; it wasn’t a huge event, but the drag queens were awesome and we got to dance a little, so I enjoyed myself. Of course, it’s debatable whether that was a good idea when I still had yet to pack and had to wake up at 5:20 the next morning, buttttttt… What’s done is done?
Anyway, on Friday I shlepped myself home on a 7 am train (a miserable experience) and got to experience the mixed delights of what was essentially a two-family reunion involving 25 people in our totally-not-big-enough-for-this living/dining room. I got to catch up with some people, though, and the food was great, so I can’t complain.
(Plus, the Caps are in the playoffs, so I doubly can’t complain.)
On Saturday I went to the gym and got totally shown up by a group of middle-aged women, which I may talk about at a different time, because it inspired certain philosophical thoughts. Following that, my mom, my sister, my sister’s friend, and I trekked downtown to go see the 36 Views Of Mount Fuji exhibit at the Sackler, which is probably one of my favorite works/series of art.
Alas, all of my visits home seem to come to an end far too quickly, so I dragged myself onto yet another train and am currently on my way back to the wild world of Wes and homework. (Of course, as with all of my in-transit posts, I will be back at Wes by the time I post this, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Or something.
See you next week, darlings — same time, same channel, all that good stuff.
[Original tags for this post: analogies are like the marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate of life, my life is actually pretty boring, passover, the internet is magical,the philosophy of the internet, there and back again,transportation,wesmtc, writing series]
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