Utter Rubbish

I'm sitting here watching "Proof" with Hugo Weaving.  It...has a surprisingly disturbing effect on me.  I find myself pausing it constantly and doing other things, including applying for another job.  It looks like I didn't get that other job for which I applied, considering the radio silence my email inquiry has been met with. *shrug* It had weird hours and I wasn't terribly impressed by the fact that the girl who was interviewing me was in flip flops and a sweater that looked like it came from the sale rack at Old Navy while I was in my finest suit...but then again, that's just me being snarky to cover up my wounded ego, I suspect.  Oh well, that's the nature of the beast, I guess. 

So, I've applied for this publishing job locally.  Once more into the breach...

I find myself loving that quote, not simply because I love Shakespeare...but this quote always seems to come to the forefront of my mind at the strangest moments.  Perhaps its the cyclical essence evoked in the quote...the perseverance required for the implementation of that command.

OH how ironic! In Proof, this woman Celia takes Hugo's character Martin to the symphony and what do they play? Beethoven's Fifth! **Shout outs to all my Vendetta friends!!**

More to rant about later, I suppose.  Anyone else excited about X3 this coming week? I'm thoroughly disgusted at the fact that they're remaking Miami Vice with Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx.  Blech.  As if Colin Farrell could achieve the pastel excellence of Johnson! Whatev.   

In less snarky news, I got an A+ in one of my courses!  I know what you're thinking: "whoopty effing do, H! Why brag about it?"  Well, ladies and gents, you have to understand, my school just doesn't give out A+'s.  Seeing one of those on a grad school report card is the equivalent of finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.  Well, perhaps that's overdramatic of me, but competition at UVA is fierce and needless to say, seeing that made it feel like a friggen miracle!

Report card, consider yourself PWNED!!!

In those soft grey moments of nothingness that occasionally come before us, do you ever sit back and mourn the loss of people you've never met? 

I had a similar moment today.  While watching a particularly poignant episode of Star Trek: DS9, I thought about how much I missed a member of another Star Trek cast: Deforrest Kelley.  It seemed strange to me that I should feel such an overwhelming grief at the loss of this wonderful actor and charming man.  Even stranger, I had just lost a great-grandmother this past weekend at the ripe old age of 101.   Am I sad at her passing? Yes, very much so.  But I wasn't as close to her as I was to other members of the family who have since passed on.   Yet, I recognize that my sense of loss for "Bones" McCoy feels stronger and deeper than a member of my own family.  Am I slightly unsettled by this? You betcha.

Is this merely an unhealthy obsession with celebrity? Or is it something deeper?  In all honesty, I saw more of Bones McCoy in my life than I did this great-grandmother, who lived in Georgia, and to my recollection, only visited us in MD once or twice during all that time.  As for McCoy, I grew up with him.   Fictional character or no, he was a beloved childhood friend, a companion during sick days, sunny days, and long, blanket-wrapped, cocoa-filled nights.  He kept me laughing, crying, arguing along with him and I still believe I haven't quite accepted the death of the wonderful actor that gave him life. 

Other actors who I truly miss include: Mark Lenard, who played Sarek, Spock's father; Phil Hartman, a brilliant comedian whose death was so damn senseless; Christopher Reeve, who shall be forever enshrined as Superman in the hearts of a nation; River Phoenix, who lived life too fast , died young, and left a beautiful corpse; and Jonathan Brandis, who played lots of wonderful roles before committing suicide.  Its strange that at that moment, I edited myself, couching my language in pleasant, disguising euphemism rather than admitting to or revealing the horrid truth of his death.  I guess I'm protective of him; I thought he was a great actor and well, I had a huge crush on him when he was on Seaquest. His death in particular still affects me because it was preventable.  Why suicide?  What was in his mind that drove him to end such a promising life?  Did he not see the promise? Did he not know that there were those of us out there still cheering for him?  Why?  All death seems senseless and undignified, but when its by your own hand...when there are people out there who love you and support you...it leaves a stain.  I rarely listen to Nirvana because of such a stain; they were once one of my favorite bands. 

Perhaps "stain" is too coarse a word.  Maybe I mean the deep dissatisfaction, the long-standing sorrow of those who are left behind, unable to answer the question: "Why?".  For Phil, we have an answer: his wife was a psycho who should burn for killing him.  For River, we have an answer; death is one of the many side effects of illegal drugs.  For my Superman, we have an answer; his spirit had chosen its time to fly again.  For Deforrest and Mark, we understand that we all live terminal lives, capped with the icing of old age but for Jonathan, twenty-seven was old age.  I'm not far away from that myself.  It just makes you think.  And mourn.  And rage at the dying of the light.

Ok, so I would have started this journal entry about five minutes ago, but I keep interrupting my typing because I can't stop eating Kix. 

That's right, my friends: I am a cereal addict.  If there are three food items I can't live without, it's (crunch crunch) cheese, fettucine alfredo, and cereal.  (crunch crunch).  You may think that someone like myself would spend most of my time mooning over sushi or juice or those Michelina meals that are so divine...but no.  If you lose me in a grocery store, I'm browsing (yes, browsing) the cereal isle.  (crunch crunch) 

I remember my old tried and true favorites: Honey Nut Cheerios and Raisin Bran.  Then I move on and wonder if I feel like a real good sugar rush in the mornings (crunch crunch); if so, Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, baby, ALL the way!  If I've been feeling like riding the fine middle line with the healthier but still sweetened cereals, you'll find me admiring the simplicity of Crispix, Corn Pops, or my current obsession, Kix.  So simple, so pure, and so....irresistable.  (crunch crunch)

So, I'm on my third bowl here and I start thinking about communism.  Strange how something so heavenly could make you think of something so unsavory but that's just how my brain has chosen to function today.  (Oh no! Last bite!! crunch crunch)  On my way home from class every day, I pass a trailer park on my left, conspicuous in its placement between two upper-middle class neighborhoods.  It got me thinking about all the themes we covered in our class presentations today about poverty, racism, school funding, and the influence of all these "high risk" elements within the context of both the school and community systems.  Most of the books written today rail against over-simplification or reduction of any of these concepts, arguing that in doing so, all we do as people is gloss over the complexity of the problem and assign responsibility and urgency to anyone other than ourselves.  Just like communism, it shows that homogeneity is insufficient in any socio-political or economic situation.  It's just not possible to even the playing field, so to speak or force involved concepts into nice, neat little boxes for us to deal with in really efficient ways (a la the final scene in Raider's of the Lost Ark). 

Back to the point of the trailer park, I thought about the types of people that must be in there and our assumptions (as outsiders) regarding their place in society.  Also, I thought of how the people in the lovely houses on either side of this ghetto-looking trailer park must feel and what sorts of anxieties are present in their lives.  Unless we go in there, however, we have no idea about the types of people who live in the park. Even so, I couldn't help thinking about how the people in the houses must be nuts to be neighbors to that type of living arrangement and that in wishing for something different, they may express their frustrations in terms of indignation against those of lesser economic status having only the means to live in such an eye sore. As I said before, homogeneity is never going to be viable nor should we wish it to be.  That being said, conflict naturally stems from heterogeneity.  Yes, all of us good, noble Americans understand the evil threat of Communism, but isn't this trailer park made possible through the socio-economic gap present in our own capitalistic society? Our rich are getting even richer and are willing to pay to put their kids into homogenous private schools, which do prove better for them scholastically (because of small class size, more personal instruction, etc) but widen the social gap between them and the rest of the world, which in turn just perpetuates the social problem where the current dominant culture will always be accused of racism and the other subcultures will feel nothing but anger and anxiety for a society that refuses to mix.

This is your brain. This is your brain on Kix.  Any questions?