During my dinner break out by the lake, i was rereading a section in The Unbearable Lightness of Being where the doctor talks about his relationship with women and his wife, discussing the possible roles of a man in the pursuit of women. As the book is wont to make me do, my mind quickly wandered from the book to a state of internal discussion about the descriptions of relationships.

We are trained to label all of our relationships with people – daughter, friend, student, lover, etc. These labels provide roles and those roles come with expectations. When one fails to live up to the expectations, one is seen as a bad daughter/friend/student/lover. Even within these labels, we have to evaluate the magnitude of our role there. I hated the middle school negotiations between friend and best friend. The latter implied a large committment, a stronger bond, and a greater responsibility…

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i’ve runaway for a little bit, in order to work on my thesis. a dear friend of mine has lent me his little hideaway in the middle of the woods and i’m happily rejoicing, loving the beauty of nature while being productive. there’s something fun about having to choose to get online, through a very slow connection. it really does alter my relationship with the Internet when it’s not so very automatic. alas, it definitely alters my tendencies to babble incessently into this forum…

A few weeks back i was at a party where some people in the audience were doing activities that were not good for the community. So, the DJ decided to put a spoken word piece on, and i have to admit, i loved it. There is nothing better than an artistic response to a social situation.

I despise deadlines. They make me anxious and confused and unproductive. So, Frank’s blog entry of the day put a huge smile on my face, as he quoted Douglas Adams:

love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.

Sadly, i don’t think that my readers appreciate this attitude as much as i do.

Some capitalist in the sky must jump up and down everytime that i have to write a paper because i spend more money when writing papers than i do at any other point in time. Of course, all of my money goes to exactly one place. Conversely, all of my friends must hate me when i write because year after year, they get suckered into the painful process of moving my consumerist acquisitions.

Today: 1 Lacan, 1 Foucault, 2 Kafka, 3 Calvino, 1 Goffman, 1 Aronson, 1 Jung… yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s a theoretical day.