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february 25, 2001.I always write on this day. This is one of those days I "mark with a white stone." But I'm tired of writing about why. Or maybe I just had a sudden growth spurt of maturity. Try the archives if you're curious.
This weekend has flown by, as they all do. Although I haven't made amazing progress with my homework this week, I have made several conceptual breakthroughs. 1) I really need to pay attention to my Wednesday morning class before all of my assignments come due. I haven't done a lick of work in that class and that fact is going to become painfully obvious to the professor in a couple of weeks. 2) There's no sense in worrying about these ad hoc presentations when they're supposed to be spontaneous. 3) My art project on female self-mutilation for the sake of beauty will be arranged in female-suggesting triangles. In a perfect word my artefacts would be mounted on an antique dressmaker's dummy (like the distressed ones I saw on sale as furniture on Queen Street West last summer). But I don't have access to one of these overpriced objets d'art, so I'm slapping it all up on bristol board & naming the piece In Lieu Of A Dressmaker's Model. Today I took the pictures for this art project, or rather, since they were pictures of me, the Boy took them. He doesn't get any credit in this class, but he has a large creative say in my projects, because...well, just because, that's why. I didn't marry him so that I could do everything by myself, for heaven's sake. But I'm keeping his involvement quiet, just in case I lose marks for collaboration. Or something. It makes me feel awfully shady, it does. Since I just took pictures of my fat arms (thanks in part to birth control), I'm in a bit of a body-hating funk. When did I come up with the idea of parading my unattractive chemical mutilations for my department? The idea seems ludicrous now. I have to wonder why I thought it would be a good idea to put myself on display in this way. Did I think that I would like writhing in silent self-loathing? The moment has arrived and I have to say No, constant reader. I really don't.
Strange church today; a marathon session completely dominated by a board meeting. Yes, I understand how important it is to our development as a species that we have endless procedural meetings instead of hitting each other with chunks of rock. That doesn't make it any more interesting. I move that we take the surplus out of this annual fund and apply it to our ongoing debt. It's enough to make me want to run to the Mother Church...at least the Pope will make all of my decisions for me and I won't have to do any of this hard group dynamics and long range planning. (the preceding paragraph was brought to you by Archaic Protestant Prejudice. APP - shouting 'popery!' since 1894.) |
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