eowyntook

Guys, this exists. This is on the face of the earth and was made "for the adult collector."

WTF?

I met the other Eowyn today. (Did I mention there's a first year named Eowyn here at Wooster? Well there is.) This event was neither as momentous or as awkward as I'd anticipated. I foresee this turning into one of those friendships where you wave at each other as you pass and have no other communication. I'm ok with that. She spells her name the right way (with an accent) and presumably has pronounced it the same way her entire life. Leave it to me to feel intimidated because someone else uses my name better than I do.

I've been back at school for almost a week. Give or take a few hours at this point. I really like all of my classes, except for Spanish 101, but really, I had no hopes for that class. Suffering through it was all I expected. I got into the orchestra even though I totally bombed my audition and am both surprised and pleased by this. Oh, and strangest fact of the week so far--besides the fact that Duncan Jones graduated from Wooster--is that there is a freshman named Eowyn. I have yet to meet her, but am trying rather persistently.

My house--and the people in it--are awesome. Besides the fact that occasionally they speak in their secret 'socialist jew summer camp' language it is everything I expected and more. And honestly, I expected that as well, so I will not complain. I just kinda wish there was someone around I could speak my secret 'womyn's music festival in the woods' language with. Oh well.

The Michigan Womyn's Music Festival was fantastic this year. I got to work long crew. Which means I was there, for a month, putting up tents and woodchipping trails and hauling benches and signs from one location to another. I'm still not really sure whether I'm allowed to share pictures. But if I figure that out I will.

The reason I'm writing right now is because I discovered there's a page missing from the scan of the reading I have to do for 'Representing Sexualities in American Lit.' (which is the most fantastic class ever, by the way) and this means suddenly I have nothing to do while I'm working. This media library gig is proving to be exactly as spectacular as I thought it would be. Internet access and an average of one customer per hour. What more could I ask for? Yeah, so, expect a lot of almost bored updates on Saturdays (as that is when I work the most hours) from now on.

You know you spend too much time on the internet when...
You walk past a Shoppers Food Warehouse store and wonder, "What makes that store safe for work?"


And...
I saw Moon twice over the weekend cuz it was just. That. Good. I'd been excited to see this film for awhile, cuz I have loved Sam Rockwell since I first saw Galaxy Quest. (And then proceeded to love him in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Matchstick Men, Choke... uh, you get the picture.) But this movie performed beyond all of my (very high) expectations. Rockwell was amazing, acting with such heart-wrenching honesty in a role that could've been unsympathetic if played wrong. The script was tight and pitch-perfect. The sound and cinematography worked wonderfully to disorient the audience just the bit needed to understand the protagonist's state of mind. *cough*Abrams could learn a few things about lens flare from this film*cough* And I won't even get started on the score. These elements coalesced into the most thought-provoking and emotional movie I've seen in a long time.

GO SEE IT!

I recently finished reading The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon. Thanks to a $15 gift certificate to Borders I got as part of a weird gift-swap thing (that belonged in an episode of The Office). It was amazing (the book, not the gift-swap thing). This book affected me on a more emotional level than a work of fiction has in a long time. Each of the main characters was believable and sympathetic and it increased my desire to know more about comic books ten-fold.

( This entry is a little spoilery )

Yeah, so Whole Foods has wi-fi. And it is pretty passable wi-fi at that. And I bought a cookie two hours ago and haven't moved from this table since. If you ignore the loud groups of AU students who sometimes wander through it isn't too bad a place to sit.

Guess I've found my internet fix for the summer.

So, another paper finished before the deadline arrives even though I spent most of yesterday sleeping and didn't start it until today. Another lesson about procrastination not learned. Maybe I'll learn it when I get a bad grade on said paper?

So, have one of those afore-mentioned memes. (This one comes from starfishofelves. Heh, so did the last one I think.) Comment and the poster lists five things they associate with you. And then you further discuss these things in your own journal. And then people can comment asking for five of their own.

( Five Things. (Hey, it's twenty less than usual, right?) )

So, uh, I got my grades back from my semester in Ireland. Well, I got them back awhile ago apparently but my mom is crap at keeping an eye on the mail so I found about them just a little while ago.

They were ridiculous. I feel like I should not have received As and A-s for the work I did there. Especially for that paper I wrote in Irish Film. Let alone the papers that were sorta late for Modern Irish Lit and 18th and 19th Century Irish Lit. I can't quite sit still or go to sleep (even though I want to) so I will be self-deprecating and yet braggy at the same time on LJ.

Er, good grades, how am I getting them? I will never understand teachers. Maybe this is all really just revealing my self-esteem issues. Do I actually write good papers? Why am I rambling at night on the internet?

Also, snow, that sticks, in April, AFTER it's been spring-like weather? This does not make sense to me.

I'm going to leave and stop ending sentences with question marks now.

I've got my windows open! And barely any homework due for four days! And life is spectacular.

The wind blowing through my room keeps making me feel like I should do something wonderfully creative and productive but I can't figure out what it is. Also, the pictures taped haphazardly to my walls are blowing everywhere. My door keeps popping open too. Spring is spectacular.

I love our new teacher in Women and Religions. Class with him is basically just a list of random facts that make me feel bad about the state of the world. But also like maybe I can fix it. Sort of like English with Havholm today which was just all about how we're being watched all the time and have no individual personalities. Why I would find a class like that uplifting I still don't know.

My mood, why won't it stabilize?

So in the ever continuing efforts to procure some money for myself I have found myself trying to convince grade school children that creative writing is fun for the past two days. And will continue to for the rest of the week, and next week to if I'm lucky. Ha.

It's actually been a really fascinating experience. You ask kids if they wanna write a story and most of them give you a weird look before wandering away. Yesterday I brought in small plastic animals to write about, that went over ok--for the three kids who paid any attention to me at all. Today I brought in examples of stories written in the form of journals, or letters, or something and suggested that as an idea starter. The two kids who stopped by today ignored that completely and did something else. But they seemed to enjoy themselves. We would all read each other bits of the stories we were working on and it was almost sweet.

Anyway, what I wanted to get at was how many of the children resorted to writing fanfiction, (basically). One of them wrote about The Blob, one of them wrote about lego Star Wars characters, one of them based their story on another story they'd read called Fly, Fly Away. They all spiraled out into pretty original sort of stories within a page, but I thought it was fascinating to see how they used other works as a starting point.

I will have more intelligent ideas on what this says about people and fanfic writing at a later date. Maybe.

So I've finished the first week of classes back at Wooster. They went alright. I am intrigued by some of them and a little bored by others. We'll see how things progress.

Sinking back into life here was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be, but it was a little disappointing. I got overly schmoopy about the people I had left behind, especially those good old Westminsterians. When I returned to discover they were all still real people instead of the fantastic imaginary ones I had replaced them with I was only a little sad. Really though it was fantastic to see most of them again. There were those moments of understanding and awesomeness in passing with some. I feel like I've a better handle on the angst that happened in my absence, although I still haven't dealt with it to my satisfaction. Catching up with people outside the Westminster group of clingyness made me bouncy and happy and reminded me that sometimes working to make friends is actually worth it.

I'm trying to get a job--there're only three positions listed at the student services building, only one of those has gotten back to me so far. Apparently Wooster is looking for students to blog about their experiences here. I submitted a mock blog entry about my return to Wooster that paints a bit of a different picture from this one and I've been practicing my smiley school spirit face for the interview. Cuz I think it would be a really awesome job to have, actually, I just might have to twist things a little in my blog entries. But then, that's what blogs are for, right? No one tells the truth in those things.

Staring at the ice that has collected on my window does not make me want to go back outside, but I know I must, so farewell for now.

I am amused by LJ's writer's block question today. Well, I'm amused by the whole concept really. "I really, really, wanna blog. I wanna yell about my opinions on the internet. Oh, wait, I need opinions to yell about what will--hey look, LJ is giving me prompts! Problem solved." Anyway, I am amused because of it's utter fannish nature, and the fact that it mentioned Battlestar Gallactica, and the fact that it thinks Harry and Hermione are a strange pairing. Yup, that's all from me.

Wait! No it's not. I'm three hundred words short on my four thousand word paper but I don't think I care, plus I still have to edit the fucking behemoth. Once I've turned that in I'll feel like I'm done. Never mind the fact that I still have two more papers to write. I can't wait to return to the land where by this point in the semester I have some semblance of what my grade will be. Over here it's a total crap shoot. And I'm terrified, but also can't be bothered to care. That's what happens to me at the end of the semester, the end is so close that anything in between now and the end seems almost inconsequential.

Alright, so I'll admit I didn't read this article carefully. I've got no attention span right now, and if I did I'd actually be studying the Ulster Cycle instead of wandering around on the internet. Anyway, this article is suggesting that the increasing availability of porn is related to the decrease in rape cases. I think it's a really interesting idea, and actually makes a lot of sense. I was wondering what other opinions were. Does it offend your sensibilities? Does it make perfect sense? Do the two seem completely unrelated?

I've always been a little annoyed by the feminist argument against porn. Yes, I would be a happier person if shaved pussies and giant tits weren't required to star in porn, but I think the inherent issues in porn stem from society's assumed gender roles, not the porn itself. What turns people on turns them on because of the culture they live in, and they will thus seek out those images in... Oh crap, it is too late for me to start typing anything coherent on this subject and I really should be reading about Celtic heroic society.

I'd still love to know what people think about the ideas behind the article though.

This John Ackerman short film is really cool. Apparently it won an Oscar and I'm just behind the times in discovering it now. But if you're behind the times too check it out! Apparently it's being made into a feature film with the voice talents of Elijah Wood and John C. Reilly among others. For something I didn't know about fifteen minutes ago I'm incredibly excited.

The design and simplicity of this rival Wall-E in awesomeness. Especially because this is darker and moodier but still elicits those little twinges of glee.

I had a grand plan for a little while to update my LJ every time I changed my status on FB. I figured I could go into the deeper explanations of said status that I always hope someone will ask for and no one ever does. That idea lasted right until I updated my status and felt too lazy to actually type entire paragraphs.

Really this is an avoid working on nanowrimo entry. Nanowrimo's going better this year than it ever has in the past, in case you were wondering. I'm sure that my novel's completely inaccurate. This is what I get for setting it in the 1930s and in states I have never been to. I figure if I like it enough I can always go back and fix the blatant errors later when I have time. At least I've got google maps open in a tab so I know my character's journey is at least going through the right states.

I never talked about Scotland in here did I? That's too bad. Scotland was amazing. The weather was intense, the scenery was completely overwhelming, the old guy who talked to us about the Loch Ness Monster was fascinating, the history was ever present.

No mention of the birthday on here either. It went alright. Mere hours after I'd finally managed to pull some sort of gathering of friends together I discover that I could instead go to the Med/Renn & WARPs ball. Oh well. Have I even mentioned Med/Renn in here either? No. It's the medieval renaissance society. It's a group of UCC students who are reenactors, or training to be reenactors, and I may go to meetings once a week to learn how to fight with a spear. Good times are had. Yeah, so, birthday, almost awkward group conversations about sexual preference and the Kinsey scale were had. Bad movies were watched. Too many euros were spent on alcohol.

The reason I opened this window in the first place, the thing I was going to write about before I got caught up in a heap of self-obsessed updating was that I've realized people who are uncomfortable swearing make me uncomfortable. It's fine if they just don't, but if they excuse themselves, or apologize after each time they do it I get a little on edge, a little nervous. I was hanging out with someone last night--who I like a lot for the record--who apologized almost every time she said fuck. She also told a story about how much Irish say the "c word" and how it makes her uncomfortable. Which is funny to me, because growing up the way I have cunt has never seemed like that terrible a word to me, on-par with fuck maybe. But over and over again she said the "c word" and each time she did I cringed, it got to the point where I almost wanted to dance around the room screaming cunt. If you're going to talk about swear words, and you're over twelve just say the swear word, ok?

Stayed up till one watching crap TV last night. (Of course, in Ireland that's kind of a redundant thing to say.) I was at a friend's flat and I discovered that late at night, with company, crap TV can actually be a lot of fun. There was some soaps, some music videos, some reality, we even watched a little bit of Desperate Housewives. I'm amused that I managed to avoid that show my entire stay in the States but I get over here and somehow it becomes entertaining.

Somewhere during all that crappiness there was a commercial for a made for TV movie, Einstein and Eddington. I spent the entirety of the commercial trying to figure out whether or not it was Andy Serkis. No one else watching TV knew who that was. So of course upon my return to the wonderful land of the internets I run off to IMDB and discover it is in fact Andy Serkis. And you know who's playing Eddington? David Tennant. My world of crossovers becomes more and more complete by the day. Also while stumbling around I discovered that Andy Serkis is gonna play Captain Haddock in the Tintin movie. Add that to your list of casting news that makes Eowyn ridiculously happy.

Tonight a friend and I partook in one of the "Galas." Which basically just means it's one of the featured films, a little bit more prestigious--you may have actually heard of the director or actors before unlike the rest of the festival's offerings. Before heading out we watched a bit of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy which seemed particularly appropriate because not only did it have Martin Freeman in it who was the lead in tonight's film. But the other gala film we're going to, Choke, (which I'm terribly excited about) has Sam Rockwell in it. I love how when you watch enough movies they all start to form a web of connectedness. I can play a very specific version of Six Degrees of Seperation--it's called the nerd version and doesn't involve Kevin Bacon in any way.

I wasn't volunteering for this film, which made me feel, during the long wait for the doors to open, particularly confused and uninformed.

The movie was Nightwatching. And it started out beautifully. It's about Rembrandt (played by Martin Freeman) and the opening scene where he's talking about how to describe color as different colors filter in the windows is gorgeous. When it cuts to a large gathering of characters eating you feel like you're watching a painting. The colors are rich and dark and clearly very inspired by Rembrandt's painting. Which is excellent. And this complete gorgeousness carries you through the movie for about the first hour maybe--it's hard to tell though because I could have sworn that movie was at least three hours long, it was under two. But anyway, after the gorgeous lighting and visuals start to seem almost routine you realize that the plot of the movie is barely there and poorly told, the characters aren't actually interesting enough to be compelling and the structure of the entire thing is non-existent. (Also, there was just as much gratuitous sex in this one as there was in All My Life. While this sex did involve Martin Freeman it was no less uncomfortable.)

People walked out of the theater. We stayed to the end, which occurred at least half an hour after the climax of the movie and as the lights came up I was terrified that the friend I came with would have understood and liked this movie and I would be revealed as a plebeian. This friend is a museum studies major after all. Fortunately she thought it was just as ridiculous as I did and we spend the walk home trying to decide what the most absurd element was. Perhaps it was the moment during Rembrandt's wife funeral when all the sudden he's in a pit of water splashing it everywhere and yelling fuck loudly and repeatedly. Where did the water come from? Why is it there? Only Peter Greenaway (the director) will ever know.

(I didn't like Girl with a Pearl Earring either. I think maybe there should be a rule against making films based on invented tales about Dutch paintings.)

Peter Greenaway is giving a talk on campus tomorrow, which I plan to attend. Hopefully I'll manage to keep from giggling. Perhaps he will explain himself and/or the movie somewhat, although I doubt it. He seems like the type that doesn't explain his own art, just spends two hours of film making up stories about other people's art.

I'm volunteering with the Cork Film Festival. Because I thought I'd get more free tickets than I am, because it seemed like a good way not to study, and because I thought it might involve me in the life of this city a little more. Last night was my first shift. It was an experience in awkward boredom, with a brief ray of sunshine followed by more uncomfortableness.

( Six hours of my life )

This new found obsession with Doctor Who? (New found in this context=been growing for about a month.) It's really not a good thing.

Someday I hope to discover why I am incapable of liking something without becoming borderline neurotic about it. I mean yes, it's clever and campy in a good way and handles time travel in a manner that doesn't make me want to throw things and is just in general highly enjoyable. But does that mean that I need to use all my internet time wandering around learning about it? No. Does that mean I should let it creep constantly into my thoughts so that it takes an effort not to reference it during conversation? No. Does that mean I need to make LJ posts letting my dear flist know of my new obsession? No.

Or, if you're me, yes, yes and yes.

Seriously though, I want to know what gene or momentous childhood occasion makes some people turn into obsessive fans and others casual viewers. Where does that difference lie?

On another note:

This past weekend was my homestay. Another girl from my program and I stayed with a widow named Ina in Carrigaline. Our host was nice and welcoming and the town was tiny and adorable. She lived in Irish suburbia, where all the houses are built the same. For some reason I didn't ever expect to see such a thing over here. We met her friend and had lunch by the beach. We hung out at the pub both nights and got lost trying to make our way back to her house. She watched more bad television than I could believe. Dancing With the Stars over here is called Strictly Come Dancing. I think that's my favorite name for a television show. She sent us off with food (which was great as I haven't been grocery shopping in almost two weeks) and the offer of a homecooked meal any time we felt like calling her up. It was a great experience, and, as with almost all other experiences, proved to me that I get ridiculously nervous for little reason.

The uncomfortable feeling of displacement I've been experience for the past couple days came to a head this morning in a very literal way. I don't feel out of place in Ireland so much as out of place in this... space. I've been waking and feeling that the world outside my door is not the one I belong in. Not the country, but the world.

This morning, I walk desperately breathless around campus trying to find Kane G19. I stumble into a room, inconvenience two people to reach a chair and listen to a German woman start to explain the Waldorf method of teaching. It quickly dawns on me that this is not the right class. I sit there, nearly bouncing with energy and anxiety trying to decide whether I'm going to admit my mistake and leave, or sit here for an hour and learn about alternative schooling methods. I angst over this for what feels like ages. Salvation is found when the two people sitting in front of me admit their mistake as well and leave. I inconvenience the two students again and am quickly out the door. I find G19 and listen to a brief overview of the Celtic Lit class.

That feeling of unbelonging has burst completely since then. This afternoon, in a crowded hall, loud music playing, bodies pressed close together and people with fliers advertising their societies on all sides I find the Medieval/Renaissance Society. They're reenactors. They meet every Wednesday evening to train with their swords and spears and daggers and axes. They're friendly and talkative and I've suddenly lost two and a half hours of every week to them. I'm going to learn to fight with a spear.

So I've regained my sense of place by finding a group of people who aren't willing to live entirely now.

Seems about right to me.