‘Fucking A’ and the Rest of It

I'm finding New York City at the tail-end of winter to be the setting for a fittingly melancholic transformation of self. What does it have to do with? A new year, perhaps. Oh yeah, it's not new anymore.

Maybe it's because the first month of the year seemed like a dream, and it appears as though I'm slowly waking up to the reality that life really is a bitch and there's no controlling its effects. Or maybe I'm bored with the readings for class. I haven't read significantly for school in about six days for some reason, only able to fit in a couple of pages of Herder here or random doses of Joan Tronto's ethic of care. Who cares about care? I'd really like to blame it on my disinterest of things such as Tronto's care and Okin's family.

Or maybe it's because I don't know any gay people.Or maybe it's because I have two straight girls' phone numbers in my wallet. That's going to get me what? Or maybe it's because I've finally managed to make Smart One's frozen macaroni and cheese taste like shit. When you can screw up a frozen dinner, things aren't good. I saw Jessie today. (She's the ex-girlfriend who appeared before me the first day of school.

I'm thinking I need to have a cast of characters along the margins.) We hung out a couple of weeks ago and then I called her a couple of times but the calls went unreturned. I get that a lot. Anyway, she's stressed with school. I wish I was. It'll come soon enough.

Actually, a lot of the Liberal Studies students are feeling a little apathetic right now. I spend hours in Marcela's room on the second floor when we both should be studying. I was there yesterday till 3 am. I was in there tonight for a couple of hours while I did laundry. Good things come out of our meetings, though. Last night, I had the bright idea to start a writing group. We were talking about writing and discovered our feelings are similar.

I feel as though I can't write, which is a problem when you have to do it a lot. I feel pressure to write. I fear it. I tremble under its power over me. So I was thinking that if we get together for the sole purpose of exchanging and discussing our writing, it will inspire us to produce. Well, it will at least get me to sit down and write something. Speaking of writing, this paragraph sucks and it must end.

So...  I submitted an abstract for the Liberal Studies conference. From my ass, I was able to muster only the following 108 words:  Identity politics, though a destructive phenomenon that gained popularity in modernity, is finding its way to an increasingly fragmented existence, according to some postmodern critics. The result is an individual pursuit of belonging in a society that tends to resist the very identities these individuals — those embodying difference in gender, race, and sexuality — bring to the table. Additionally, the role of language in identity formation and perpetuation can take both a positive form as well as act as a catalyst in identity destruction.
This paper will explore the origins of these identities in society as well as examine the effect of language on all aspects of their existence.  It's vague as hell and was the only way I could formulate the thoughts in my head at 1 am Monday. I'm hoping they won't accept it. If they do, I'll have to stand in front of an audience of people expecting a bang-up look into identity stuff.

The good thing is I think I'm going to try to do this as a paper for my culture class. And I may adjust it accordingly for each of my other two classes. I'll take a special look into gender for my gender class (imagine that shit) and I'll take a special look at women (which I've never had a problem with) for my feminist theory class. Although feminism isn't just about women, ladies, gentlemen, and undecideds.

I saw a play on Sunday. It's called Fucking A and it was written by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks. Mos Def is in it as is the woman who plays the lieutenant in the NBC hit television show Law and Order. It was good. And my ticket was only $15. I saw Niketa perform last night. It was cool seeing her talent. She's got a good stage presence and I think she'll make it. There was a walkout today at school protesting the war. I went to class, though. It has nothing to do with the cute girl, either. The professor was guilt ridden because we weren't participating in the teach-in scheduled. We finally compromised and left after 30 minutes into the discussion of Herder. There were panels throughout the day of professors discussing stuff about the war. I attended one of them but left before it erupted in a shouting match. I always leave at the most interesting times. Anyway, there was a protest at Union Square, which was cool. There was also a kind of march by the little Lang students. Lang is one of the undergraduate divisions at New School. I'm so condescending. I should stop. They were all so adorable. They marched through the GF shouting things about oil, money and Bob Kerrey. It must suck to be him. There was also a huge march down Fifth Ave. to Washington Square Park but I wasn't in that. I was eating Thai food with friends. Some things are just more important to one's stomach. I have plantar fasciitis. So does Renee Zellweger. I have to do stretches. And, of course, yesterday was Ash Wednesday. When I went in the elevator I noticed that this woman had ashes on her face. However, as I am just a little removed from Catholicism, my first thought was "she has crap on her forehead. I should tell her." But that was quite momentary because the religious significance finally dawned on me: "Is today lent?" Is today lent? What the hell? Anyway I wished her happy lent as I walked out of the elevator. Now I wished I had asked her what she gave up. The priests of New York love their ashes. I have never seen such thickly applied ashes in my life. I saw people with some serious crosses on their foreheads -- brands, if you will. And they were dark. When I was a kid, I remember my ashes being gone by recess. What's interesting is that I never used to notice the ashes and sometimes, this oh-so-holy Wednesday would go unnoticed by me unless someone told me what it was. But being in NYC, where everyone walks, you see all the Catholics. I bet it could even act as sort of a national Catholic dating day. If you're looking for a Catholic, no day like Ash Wednesday to find one. Because looking for dates in church is a bit much, don't you think?