This was one of those insular weekends where I spent far too much time thinking and too little time breathing fresh air. It left me ruminating on some things that I need to get out.
~ Spent another five painful hours on Saturday editing the thesis. During one of those hours I did nothing but flip through the five boxes of note cards that help make up the bulk of the document. When I sat back to stretch out my stiff back, I realized that I was gazing down at the cards and boxes with an odd sense of pride and warmth. I love those cards. They still fascinate me. And as much as I fucking hate it, my thesis still fascinates me. I sat there on my living room floor and pondered that idea for a while and it simultaneously thrilled and repulsed me--I may be the world's foremost authority on Spanish and Irish neutrality in World War II (with the possible exception of my thesis advisor, I suppose, although even he would probably demur that).
What the hell? How did I come upon something so esoteric? Something so unsexy? Something about which I cannot speak without sounding as if I'm lecturing, since no one knows anything about it? And after it's pulled so much of my soul from me, not to mention the headaches and hand cramps and other practical problems, how can it still make me want to plunk down on the floor and just read even more about it?
~ Memes. I like them. I struggle with "muddying up" the blog with them, spending too much time on them, distracting from the real point with them. I've considered curbing my enthusiasm for them, limiting myself to specific ones, or setting up a separate blog for them. However, my final analysis is this: it doesn't matter if no one cares. They work for me as writing and psychological exercises. They make me think, about myself, writing, html, my friends, and all sorts of other things for which I'm not going to apologize. I'm not under any illusion that any person reads every word I write, so as for memes--if you don't like it, don't read it.
~ Email is frustrating me in both ways lately. I spend too much time reading it and not replying, feeling like a creep for not staying in very close contact with the people I want to be closest to. Blowing people off is such high school behavior for me and I should be able to prioritize better than that. But I also send messages to people about whom I care, and I'm [apparently] blown off in return. So that irritating urge strikes, to send another message asking, "Did you get my message? Is everything ok? Why aren't you writing?" Fuck it. Perspective. My priorities are mine, but they're not everyone else's. It doesn't mean that I won't wonder if some people have fallen off the side of the planet, but maybe I can feel less like whining about it.
~ I'm dashing home for a couple of days this week. My band director from high school is retiring and there's a roast for him. It brings up lots of happy memories. Yeah, I was one of the weird ones in high school, hair flopping over one eye and the long coat and all that, but it wasn't an actual trench coat and my hair was always clean. (Does that make me a poseur poseur? I can still hear Shawn's voice, hear him screaming, "Fucking POSER!" Or trying to cajole me to do something that I knew I shouldn't do, positively crooning in my ear, "Sweeeet leafffy beeeeeeef!") Band was almost uniformly fun--yargh, no pun intended--and the director was a good guy in all ways. Naturally I have the usual regrets and second-guessing about my high school experience, but I'm completely happy to be able to drop everything to go back for a couple of days to say thanks to someone who did a lot to make it good.
~ The blog template--I'm going to make a radical change. Not sure when yet because it'll take a monstrous amount of changes. Feedback desired when it happens.
~ "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker. Is it a good song or a nasty song? I'm still undecided.
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