Sunday, May 26, 2013
Food//book//Internet//sleep//rinse//scrub//wash//repeat
I am back home. Paid the ocean a visit too. Mostly handwriting these days, plus reading too. So stressed about France and cetera. Que sera sera.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
The Death of the Author and the Internet
I've just read The Death of the Author (in translation) for the first time. Granted, I did not read it well. We will continue work on that, I promise. In french, of course.
My first response was that the author has been in some ways reborn with the internet. Anonymity creates a mysterious draw to discover or uncover the person behind the screen. The separation between audience and exhibitor makes the challenge overt. There is no illusion of closeness, like there is in literature.
On tumblr, people collect themselves from the internet. They piece together their personhood from pieces that come flying by. In a sense, they aren't authoring anything except for who they are. There may not be a single original word on their page, their self-description could be song lyrics, but they have created something to display themselves.
People do not read it to find out about the world. They read it to find out about the person. They meet the creator piece by piece, through a translation of the self.
This is really pretentious. But I will keep thinking on it.
In other news, I am desperate to create an artist's collective.
My first response was that the author has been in some ways reborn with the internet. Anonymity creates a mysterious draw to discover or uncover the person behind the screen. The separation between audience and exhibitor makes the challenge overt. There is no illusion of closeness, like there is in literature.
On tumblr, people collect themselves from the internet. They piece together their personhood from pieces that come flying by. In a sense, they aren't authoring anything except for who they are. There may not be a single original word on their page, their self-description could be song lyrics, but they have created something to display themselves.
People do not read it to find out about the world. They read it to find out about the person. They meet the creator piece by piece, through a translation of the self.
This is really pretentious. But I will keep thinking on it.
In other news, I am desperate to create an artist's collective.
Where//What//How
My computer is in FUBAR mode. I think that one of the Game of Thrones links may have made it angry. In any case, that means that I've been without a computer basically since I last posted. This was a hidden boon during finals week, because I was unable to do any embarrassing procrastination in the library. Now I am home, on the 20+ inch macintosh, sitting with my back to my mother's computer. This is also not a prime blogging orientation, but we will make do.
I had a cool thought today, which I will express plainly here because I expressed it artfully in my other journal. I am all about balance. This other journal of which I speak was found deep in a drawer in my room, hidden from sight by half of a rainbow pinata. It was a birthday gift from my aunt when I was 9 years old. It only had a few pages filled in, but they were from 2002. I think it's my earliest journal.
The thought in question was... my, this is easier in fancy words. That was not the thought. That was a metathought. Okay, look. Anais Nin: pretty boss at journaling, amirite? Other dedicated journalers: very awesome. Many books, full of thoughts. One reads about them and imagines volumes dated 1945-48, 1948-50, 1950-51, etc.
But my journals are not linear.
I frequently write in 2 at once, especially counting this one. Sometimes I write in two of them on the same day, a day like this one. Sometimes I write the same thing in two of them, a thing like this one.
I like it.
My life is not linear, my thoughts are not written once and left to be as such forever. I started this internet-beast so that I wouldn't have to write an adventure 6 times for all of my friends to read it. I think that the repetition is powerful, though. I think the change of medium is important. This seems right. I don't want to be linear. I want to be scattered and wonder again and again.
Thoughts?
I had a cool thought today, which I will express plainly here because I expressed it artfully in my other journal. I am all about balance. This other journal of which I speak was found deep in a drawer in my room, hidden from sight by half of a rainbow pinata. It was a birthday gift from my aunt when I was 9 years old. It only had a few pages filled in, but they were from 2002. I think it's my earliest journal.
The thought in question was... my, this is easier in fancy words. That was not the thought. That was a metathought. Okay, look. Anais Nin: pretty boss at journaling, amirite? Other dedicated journalers: very awesome. Many books, full of thoughts. One reads about them and imagines volumes dated 1945-48, 1948-50, 1950-51, etc.
But my journals are not linear.
I frequently write in 2 at once, especially counting this one. Sometimes I write in two of them on the same day, a day like this one. Sometimes I write the same thing in two of them, a thing like this one.
I like it.
My life is not linear, my thoughts are not written once and left to be as such forever. I started this internet-beast so that I wouldn't have to write an adventure 6 times for all of my friends to read it. I think that the repetition is powerful, though. I think the change of medium is important. This seems right. I don't want to be linear. I want to be scattered and wonder again and again.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Stress Culture
This morning I sat by the outdoor stairwell to the physics subbasement and marveled at how blurry my vision was. Too much staring at computers, not enough sleep. I had half an hour before my Multi final, and I had called a meeting of Reedies Against Stress Culture. Another physics major realized the need for that particular club, and I am fully in support of it. The current membership is just three of us, mostly because it's really hard to tell who could handle being a member. Many of our peers seem to revel in the panic, especially in the physics crowd.
I do too sometimes. The first few minutes are exhilarating. Like on Monday, before the physics final.
You're standing on the edge of a sword that is ready to tip one way or another. It will dump you into an abyss if you haven't achieved your goal or if you haven't risen to the challenge. You start tiptoeing forward on the sword.
"Let's talk about Muon time dilation."
"Oh yeah, the length contraction..."
"Because of the other reference frame..."
And everyone is waiting for comprehension to arrive, to jump off the sword and live to fight another day.
We step away from the question and talk about the test. "I hope she doesn't ask about...", "The essay questions are supposed to be..." "I am so lost on quantum." Shivering extremities and shuffling papers. I've only been here for a few minutes and suddenly I'm drained. I don't want to talk, or think, or read over my notes one more time.
So I walked out onto a bench and skimmed the quantum mechanics section of my notes. There was no sword, just me and what I knew. I didn't know everything in my book, but I was comfortable with that. The knowledge I had gained over the year, and even just by studying, really couldn't be measured by a test. It was just me and physics. No extended metaphor needed.
The rest of the club walked out of the library, and we decided to go back behind the physics building. There's a little concret platform that touches the canyon which immediately becomes trees and bugs and beauty. We hung out there and talked. Whenever one of us would start getting sucked into the fear, the others would pull them out. When it came time to go inside for the test, we took turns yelling into the stairwell. The walls amplified our roars and threw them back at us.
And it was fine.
I do too sometimes. The first few minutes are exhilarating. Like on Monday, before the physics final.
You're standing on the edge of a sword that is ready to tip one way or another. It will dump you into an abyss if you haven't achieved your goal or if you haven't risen to the challenge. You start tiptoeing forward on the sword.
"Let's talk about Muon time dilation."
"Oh yeah, the length contraction..."
"Because of the other reference frame..."
And everyone is waiting for comprehension to arrive, to jump off the sword and live to fight another day.
We step away from the question and talk about the test. "I hope she doesn't ask about...", "The essay questions are supposed to be..." "I am so lost on quantum." Shivering extremities and shuffling papers. I've only been here for a few minutes and suddenly I'm drained. I don't want to talk, or think, or read over my notes one more time.
So I walked out onto a bench and skimmed the quantum mechanics section of my notes. There was no sword, just me and what I knew. I didn't know everything in my book, but I was comfortable with that. The knowledge I had gained over the year, and even just by studying, really couldn't be measured by a test. It was just me and physics. No extended metaphor needed.
The rest of the club walked out of the library, and we decided to go back behind the physics building. There's a little concret platform that touches the canyon which immediately becomes trees and bugs and beauty. We hung out there and talked. Whenever one of us would start getting sucked into the fear, the others would pull them out. When it came time to go inside for the test, we took turns yelling into the stairwell. The walls amplified our roars and threw them back at us.
And it was fine.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
A picture from Stop Making Sense
In other news, me professor is SUPER EXCITED about this hypothetical paper of mine. So I'm gonna write it and I hope it's great.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Renn Fayre Project!!!
The ~FAIRY PRINCESS SLAUGHTER HOUSE~ or ~PSILO-CABIN~ super awesome Renn Fayre project of lore and legend.
1111, that lucky number (of page views on this blog. I am so impressed) THIS IS ABOUT RENN FAYRE THO.
Yo, this gaping hole in my blogging will make me sad later. There is shit to report on, I promise. Future Julia, I did not go into a coma for 3 weeks.
Like, Stop Making Sense. 2x through the music video, 200 mg MDMA, and then A FUCKING OWL FIGHT. Fighting til 5 am to win the owl for the crust-punks, to no avail. The rugby team got it and my heart weeps forever. It was a beautiful adventure though, and fighting for the anarchists while wearing my sequin American flag dress was my favorite kind of irony.
I'll put up some pictures of my Renn Fayre project from my fancy phone-upload-technology-party. In the mean time, let it be known that I am aquainted with both the drill and the measuring tape, and we are fast friends. Much sawing and painting occurred last week, and in the end I had a platform raised 4 ft. off the ground that 6+ people could sit in. It went on the front lawn and radiated fabulousness for 3.5 days.
Thursday was maybe the best day of Renn Fayre. I finished the project with my friends, and then rode it down to campus in the back of a flatbed truck. I pulled a "we are infinite" rolling down Woodstock. I felt like I was rolling, the joy was so consuming. I acted like a fool for the rest off the night, I was so high off of success.
I flitted from project to project, always getting pulled in to one event or another. I kept forgetting people I'd promised to meet here or there, but they too had their own concerns and it was stress free.
I finished my project and went to help Edith with her inverted face illusions. Then I went to the balloon room for a bit, helped Olde Chittick paint some weird signs that said "Mission Accomplished" with GWBush's face and "This is a good thing" and "This Renn Fayre Sponsored by Google." Then I ran into Neal and Greg's pyramid sculpture, and then the Integral (a crashlanded welded space ship that went in Eliot Circle). I hopped in the back of the White Heron and went to get burritos with a couple of friends. I drank Horchata and spun around in circles. At 2 am I called it quits. The next day I turned in 3 sheets of paper, "Problem set 36 sorry not sorry edition" "Problem set 12 (I'll do it during Reading Week)" and also an 11th problems et in the same vein. They all featured a background picture of my Renn Fayre project.
Friday, I felt guilty about not doing my homework. But then school was rapidly over and I got to spend linear algebra writing in my new journal (squeee!!! also a reason this blog has been bare) and it was all gravy. I helped Edith a little bit with her project, but I was too impatient to start Renn Fayre-ing to be of much use. I think I was mostly just a calming presence. Then I changed into my Spaceman Spiff Onesie (which will get much future use) and participated in Occupy ChitBalc. Olde Chittick returned to their home turf and drank and painted faces and spilled glitter until 3 pm, when we rolled over to Thesis Parade.
It wasn't quite like last year. Not even like Spring/Fall this year. I didn't get wrapped up in the electricity of kissing everyone. I wanted something deeper. Sometimes it did feel special, but most of the people I wanted to kiss seemed distracted, or something. I gotta work up some more sexual tension before next thesis parade. One good kiss, however, lead to my fucking... 8th? crush on an inhabitant of the Hotboxxx. I really need to stop. Or they need to start wearing paper bags over their fucking sexy faces and their fucking sexy brains. Ugh. Why are my friends so hot this is not okay.
Lyle and I sat in my mushroom for a while and reminisced. So pleasant.
Edith was having a rough time. A lotta feelings bubbled to the surface as a lotta champaign bubbled in her tummy. We ate food, and sat in my mushroom, and eventually went to sleep on Chittick's couches after I took a much needed shower. I took out my hairties and the pigtails were suspended by dried champaign.
Then it was time for our border patrol shift, but Edith couldn't stop vomiting and couldn't walk so I ended up being paired with a random alum. We had an okay time. The rest of Friday night was pretty chill. Some hanging out, some dancing, then some sleep.
Fast forward to Saturday at 9 am, because I don't remember my dreams. Physics baseball had a game and a stumbled out of my dorm and out to the rugby pitch only to find 2 teams worth of people wearing physics T shirts. Art History didn't show up. Classic.
I had a relaxing morning and got dressed. Tie dye t-shirt under lace dress with shiny floral shorts and my bling'd out utility belt. I was ready to rock.
Edith and I had a lovely whippit in the pyramid as I was first feeling the 2ce. I took around 22-25mg, which is a slightly higher dose than last time. This was the first time I had ever taken a psychedelic that I'd taken before, and now I know that it doesn't matter because it had more in common with 25i than the other 2ce trip. I think I'll write the rest of Renn Fayre later, I'm tired. But yeah. It was an incredible fucking weekend.
Like, Stop Making Sense. 2x through the music video, 200 mg MDMA, and then A FUCKING OWL FIGHT. Fighting til 5 am to win the owl for the crust-punks, to no avail. The rugby team got it and my heart weeps forever. It was a beautiful adventure though, and fighting for the anarchists while wearing my sequin American flag dress was my favorite kind of irony.
I'll put up some pictures of my Renn Fayre project from my fancy phone-upload-technology-party. In the mean time, let it be known that I am aquainted with both the drill and the measuring tape, and we are fast friends. Much sawing and painting occurred last week, and in the end I had a platform raised 4 ft. off the ground that 6+ people could sit in. It went on the front lawn and radiated fabulousness for 3.5 days.
Thursday was maybe the best day of Renn Fayre. I finished the project with my friends, and then rode it down to campus in the back of a flatbed truck. I pulled a "we are infinite" rolling down Woodstock. I felt like I was rolling, the joy was so consuming. I acted like a fool for the rest off the night, I was so high off of success.
I flitted from project to project, always getting pulled in to one event or another. I kept forgetting people I'd promised to meet here or there, but they too had their own concerns and it was stress free.
I finished my project and went to help Edith with her inverted face illusions. Then I went to the balloon room for a bit, helped Olde Chittick paint some weird signs that said "Mission Accomplished" with GWBush's face and "This is a good thing" and "This Renn Fayre Sponsored by Google." Then I ran into Neal and Greg's pyramid sculpture, and then the Integral (a crashlanded welded space ship that went in Eliot Circle). I hopped in the back of the White Heron and went to get burritos with a couple of friends. I drank Horchata and spun around in circles. At 2 am I called it quits. The next day I turned in 3 sheets of paper, "Problem set 36 sorry not sorry edition" "Problem set 12 (I'll do it during Reading Week)" and also an 11th problems et in the same vein. They all featured a background picture of my Renn Fayre project.
Friday, I felt guilty about not doing my homework. But then school was rapidly over and I got to spend linear algebra writing in my new journal (squeee!!! also a reason this blog has been bare) and it was all gravy. I helped Edith a little bit with her project, but I was too impatient to start Renn Fayre-ing to be of much use. I think I was mostly just a calming presence. Then I changed into my Spaceman Spiff Onesie (which will get much future use) and participated in Occupy ChitBalc. Olde Chittick returned to their home turf and drank and painted faces and spilled glitter until 3 pm, when we rolled over to Thesis Parade.
It wasn't quite like last year. Not even like Spring/Fall this year. I didn't get wrapped up in the electricity of kissing everyone. I wanted something deeper. Sometimes it did feel special, but most of the people I wanted to kiss seemed distracted, or something. I gotta work up some more sexual tension before next thesis parade. One good kiss, however, lead to my fucking... 8th? crush on an inhabitant of the Hotboxxx. I really need to stop. Or they need to start wearing paper bags over their fucking sexy faces and their fucking sexy brains. Ugh. Why are my friends so hot this is not okay.
Lyle and I sat in my mushroom for a while and reminisced. So pleasant.
Edith was having a rough time. A lotta feelings bubbled to the surface as a lotta champaign bubbled in her tummy. We ate food, and sat in my mushroom, and eventually went to sleep on Chittick's couches after I took a much needed shower. I took out my hairties and the pigtails were suspended by dried champaign.
Then it was time for our border patrol shift, but Edith couldn't stop vomiting and couldn't walk so I ended up being paired with a random alum. We had an okay time. The rest of Friday night was pretty chill. Some hanging out, some dancing, then some sleep.
Fast forward to Saturday at 9 am, because I don't remember my dreams. Physics baseball had a game and a stumbled out of my dorm and out to the rugby pitch only to find 2 teams worth of people wearing physics T shirts. Art History didn't show up. Classic.
I had a relaxing morning and got dressed. Tie dye t-shirt under lace dress with shiny floral shorts and my bling'd out utility belt. I was ready to rock.
Edith and I had a lovely whippit in the pyramid as I was first feeling the 2ce. I took around 22-25mg, which is a slightly higher dose than last time. This was the first time I had ever taken a psychedelic that I'd taken before, and now I know that it doesn't matter because it had more in common with 25i than the other 2ce trip. I think I'll write the rest of Renn Fayre later, I'm tired. But yeah. It was an incredible fucking weekend.
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