…and I’m back to shutting my head in a drawer over and over and over

Let’s see. I just spent the last two days in a spiral of Adorno/Arendt-induced panic (if the two of them didn’t like each other, it pales in comparison to how little I like the two of them), which was only slightly more uncomfortable than the faintness spells I’ve been having for the last two weeks (one of which accidentally landed me in the ER, where I got a saline drip while a guy who’d been beaten by eight of his fellow jail inmates died–true story).

Usually in times of stress like this I take comfort in shopping, even for delicious groceries, but unfortunately it’s October, aka the Grad School Month of Doom (we don’t get paid until November; we last got paid in June), so my sustenance consists of pasta (no, not completely plain pasta, Mr. I Soak Garbanzo Beans In Advance Because My Eating Habits Are Just That Awesome, you know who you are) and Commuter Dollars ™, which are coupons for various cafeterias I got as "incentive" for walking my ass to school instead of driving the half-mile. In what may or may not be the high point of my life, I also just ran into one of my students at the grocery store while I was buying store-brand tampoons and the cheap bottled water (the fancy bottled water from Trader Joe’s is currently out of my budget, as are name-brand tampoons). If she’s not already aspiring to graduate study, she will be soon.

In other news, for those none of you who might or might not be interested, my three-and-a-half year tenure at the L Magazine has come to an end. Next Wednesday (Oct 25) is the last ever offering of "Nothing to See Here," about which I am probably sadder than all of my readership of seven put together. I really wanted to keep writing it, but the equation of German 1A instructional duties plus comprehensive exams plus fainting spells equals I can’t have any extracurricular activities. That means, alarmingly enough, that for the first time since I was seventeen, I do not have a regular outlet of publication (if you can imagine that), and therefore, like my 17-year-old archconservative brethren, this blog is now my only form of written expression. And look what I’m doing with it!

This stream-of-consciousness borderline crazy talk is fairly alarming, I realize, but if I don’t get all this crap out of my brain, it will continue to stew around in it all night long and I won’t sleep, or I’ll sleep but I’ll have odd dreams about grading exams (which I had last night, twice, plus I informed Mr. I Sprouted My Own Mung Beans Because Everything I Put Into My Body Is Healthy And That’s Why I Look Like A Marble Statue he appeared in one of them spouting some Latin neologism for the trees the tests I was grading wasted–some pun on homo sacer, but with what may or may not be the Latin word for ‘tree’; this is especially amusing because he doesn’t know Latin and neither do I), or missing planes, or being subjected to a month-long snowfall in Southern California of no ordinary snow, but rather snow infected with cancer (real dream!!!).

And anyway, it hasn’t been all bad. Besides the afternoon in the ER and the adventures in micromanaging the 18th Century, I’ve also had a lot of adventures in the ocean (with a stingray! and dolphins) and of the magic culinary variety (apparently, eggplant is best prepared salted, cooked a little, washed off, cooked a little, cut up, and cooked more), and if I manage to finish oh, I don’t know, more than one book on my exam reading list in the next month, I’ll be sort of on my way to…man, I don’t know, not fainting all the time? I don’t know.

I’m at the point now where my work is creating a constant spiral of panic, but I have no choice but to keep doing it, and so by my backwards logic I have no choice but to keep existing in a constant spiral of panic. Luckily, to amuse me I have my hetero life mate Erin, a bunch of Fassbinder movies I might or might not watch, and Mr. I Am A Prodigiously Talented Guitarist/Banjoist/Bassist/Flautist/Saxomophonist manages to remain in my company some of the time despite my best efforts to repel him (and congratulations, sir, this is the first time you have made the blog–I know how much you enjoy such attention and will certainly keep bestowing it upon you because it does not at all make you uncomfortable).

And, I’ve just discovered, "U-571" is on television, as if life couldn’t! get! better! this evening! Arendt and Adorno, you have claimed the health of another mind. Deworldification of the world and alienation of the epistemological subject indeed. Either that or a stream-of-conscious gibberish rant (actually, this is a direct translation of one of the later chapters of Sein und Zeit).

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