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tesserewhon: (Default)
Saturday, March 3rd, 2007 12:57 am
I was raised in a family of debate. If I could prove an intellectual argument right to any member of my family, he/she still wouldn't change her/his mind but that didn't matter. It only mattered that I had had a chance to say what I wanted to say. I lived on a permanent soapbox with a particularly incisive audience of one: my brother. He was irrational, illogical, and unfettered. In short, the perfect opponent. Under his whimsical and bullshitting logic lay a quicksilver mind and stubborn will, and it was with this whetting stone that I sharpened by wit.


Nowadays, I find myself in the most enjoyable debates, of my life, with classmates almost daily. It forces me to think about whether I am wrong or right. It forces me to think about what my very basic notions of society are, and then take a step back and think about why those notions are in place. It also, unfortunately, forces my friends to listen to endless debates about the meaning of gender identity and prescribed roles and whether ethics are universal. And unless this stuff is your cup of tea, there's no joy in it. It just sounds like babble, bullshit, or pretentious woolgathering. And it's fucking annoying.

So, I find that my tongue is curbed, if not completely silenced. Because while vast, sweeping, endless debates on the nature of everything in life are my cake, close and personal friendships are my bread and butter.
tesserewhon: (Default)
Thursday, March 1st, 2007 06:13 pm
Too much craziness is happening nowaday for me NOT to write it down.

Earlier today, during my Women in England class, we got a tour of our library's Rare Books collection. Specifically we flipped through a diary from the 1500's and several recipe books from the 1700's and 1800's. My gods, they were awe-inspiring. Not the subject matter itself, which seemed to consist of recipes for everything under the sun (the lemon pudding one seemed especially tempting). But the amount of care and the details from which we could then paint a picture of the women behind these diaries and cookbooks.

I fell in love with history all over again! I love how studying history places the present day in perspective. In 300 years, will there even be any diaries or records of everyday life left? So many people go the digital route. And it'll probably always be banging around the internet somewhere, but is that any more or less permanent than the linen pages of a centuries old journal?