2002-10-02 - 1:38 p.m.
It's my birthday, I can cry if I want to...
But I don't want to cry. Lots of folks has been calling me today. My mom called, and handed the phone over to my dad. Who proceeded to talk about the dog. My brother called. We talked about his dogs. My Robo called. We talked about it being my birthday! My mother-in-law called and one of the sisters-in-law called. SO MUCH LOVE FOR WEALHTHEOW! Perhaps others will call--the day is only half over.
Someone was supposed to call me last night to discuss Beowulf from a historical perspective (he is teaching a freshman class on it today). He never did, and now I'm pissed, cause I wracked my little purty pink brain trying to come up with half-way intelligent things to say about looking at Beowulf from a historical perspective. Besides the fact that I have a sneaking suspicion that Beowulf was HOT HOT HOT and he and Q. Wealhtheow (the literary character, not yours truly) were gettin' jiggy with it. YUM YUM!! Actually, I don't think this at all, as W. was a model of virtue (again, not yours truly, but rather literary queen) and would not have been shagging around with any Geat warrior that happened to catch her roving little eye. Anyhow, the moral of this story is that should anyone wish to discuss Beowulf with me, I have enough thoughts stored up for about 5 minutes of lucid conversation. Topics might include: Hygelac vs. Hgyd; Wealhtheow: serving wench or queen of Quite Considerable Influence; Beowulf's wife or lack thereof and What This Might Mean (which I just pulled out of my tuchis right now) and other Feminist Treatsies.
I bought another Andreas Scholl CD yesterday--A Musicall Banquet. It is a collection put together by Robert Dowland. Or perhaps by his father, John Dowland, as the commentator thinks. Whatever. It HAS John Dowland songs on it, and little Andreas is just rocking my world these days. This is the countertenor I am obsessed with, in case you did not know.
In other news, I think my cat is saying "Fuck Off!" a lot. She said it to me this morning after I dug her out of the closet. But at least she was not chewing the duct tape this morning. "Every day, in every way, it's getting better and better." When R and I attack her with love and snuggles, she now submits. I think she has lost all hope of escape. She ran out the door yesterday, only to be confronted with the bleak wilderness that is the apartment corridor. She trembled for a moment before retreating back through our door.
OK kiddies--that's it for now. Tonight I hang out with the graduate students for scintillating birthday fun, but on Friday I hang out with my real friends at Chevy's for WILD DRUNKEN CRAZY MONKEY BIRTHDAY FUN!!!! Which, in all likelihood, will be neither wild, nor drunken, nor crazy and will not (I hope to Goddess) include monkeys.
Is my diary narcissistic and pretentious?
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