I suppose arguably this isn't the most vital of activities in my life. Lack of readers removes any form of stress from feeling compelled to keep an updated blog. Even still my time has some additional freedom in it so I might as well toss down a few words.
My last post was a relatively self-absorbed romp through general emotional issues. I'll try to keep this one a bit more on the pleasantly self-absorbed side. This is a blog, after-all, therefor it has to be generally egocentrically focused. Then again perhaps that's just self-defensiveness rearing its head once more. I could be writing about the trials and tribulations of affordable healthcare, the deplorable state of perspectives on race in the United States in 2014, or depressing myself (and any misfortunates to stumble across this ranting) about the income gap in this nation racing headlong towards the inevitable cliff. Whatever. I'm talking about myself. Deal with it.
So who the hell am I other than someone who opens with a relatively poorly worded tearful ranting about his brother's demise? I'm a graduate student. I study English literature primarily because unlike many in this world I'm mono-lingual and my inherent desire to alter that state of linguistic ignorance has yet to take hold in me. I also study literature due to a general enjoyment for the written and printed word. At least that's how it began. Now I'm flirting with a serious love affair with theory.
Here's the thing about literary and cultural theory: Reading it is like taking a brick to the skull. Don't believe me? Crack open some Lacan and prepare for nuclear cranial meltdown. But that is also part of the fun. There is a level of decoding involved in reading theory. A level of consistently feeling lost as you read people infinitely smarter and wildly more well-read than you can ever hope to be. You stagger around beneath the weight of their lofty genius until you start to draw the lines and connections. The picture appears in the static. The background noise of confusion fades to understanding and the next thing you know you're arguing with a book in a quiet room by yourself. Or the more entertaining moments when you find yourself doing so in the library surrounded by people giving you looks of general concern.
So what are we talking about when I mention theory? Some of your general staples that are inescapable, feminism (waves one through three and the growth of four, if anyone boils feminism down as simply "feminism" then they're doing it wrong), Marxism, colonial and post(para)-colonial. I also gravitate towards the stickier widgets in this regard, queer theory (the self-righteous can calm down I didn't name the theoretical school), gender theory, and racial theory rounding out the top three.
What do I, and others who troll the stacks at your local university library, do with this theory? Why apply it, of course! To what? Ahem, did I mention I study literature? Yes. I'm one of your wicked ones. When South Park created their J.D. Salinger episode and the boys continue to shout, "You're reading too much into it!" they are speaking of me and my ilk. You write it, I'll let you know what you wrote. Seems strange, right? Well it is. I make no rhetorical defense for the awkwardness of writing criticism about still living authors. But what is interesting about the English language, in particular, is that meaning and intent are not exactly equal measures. Saussure and his infamous equation of signification works wonderfully for French and by extension a relative percentage of English. I write the word tree you think of something leafy, with branches, made exclusively of wood. But what about when I say the word "bare"? Is that bare or bear? Do I mean for you to be naked, holding some form of weapon, or running from some large, furry, death-machine? Context answers a fair portion these issues. But that is only the tip of an iceberg, the lip of a crevasse. So we scrape up some feminism, slap in some queer theory, mix up a little Marxism, and then crack open Jane Austin and stir the pot a little. Kick open some room and stretch the rhetorical legs in the fields of criticism. Or, if you're me, you do this to the likes of Ralph Ellison or Ann Petry. Yes. I do a great amount of focus on race literature.
So here is an inescapable fact about me. I'm about as white as white can come. Seriously. I'm pale. I have blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and I don't tan I ignite into flames like some Buddhist with a moral objection. All this said cross me on race and I'll bury you. I study black literature like it's going out of style. Langston Hughes? Don't play around, bring me Charles Chesnutt. Toni Morrison? Quit messing with me and let's talk about some Ann Petry. Want to delve? Don't beat around the bush, grab yourself some Silko and read Ceremony. Also for the love of God stop saying you don't see race. You see it. We all see it. Not acknowledging is more damaging than acknowledging. Difference creates divisions, this is true. But ignoring is tantamount to ignorance, and we should not be ignorant about the state of race in the United States. This is important. And if reading this long-winded, utterly pointless, most-likely unacknowledged tangent supplies anything I hope it is the recognition that race should not be ignored to make the individual feel better about themselves.
Moving on.
I'm working on a master's thesis currently. The research phase which is the least stressful and perhaps the most fun. What am I working with? Graphic novels. I'm swinging like a pendulum as to what I will actually argue but it does focus on graphic publications. Where from? Damned if I know. While the United States produces some interesting works Japan does as well, let alone various places in Europe. Honestly if you haven't read Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis you're doing yourself a disservice. Likewise if you're talking about Iran in any geopolitical discussion and haven't read this then reorient and expose yourself.
I'm a registered democrat, even though that's none of your damned business. Though from time to time don't be surprised if I freak out regarding politics. I'm agnostic which is incredibly different than atheism. I smoke weed in abundance, I smoke cigarettes, I sleep late when humanly possible and usually I'm still awake to see the dawn. I play video games and I have training in the fine arts for whatever that's worth. My vision is in the gutter, I refuse to wear contacts due to a general distaste for touching my expose eye. I'm bi-polar, medicated, and deal with it.
Welcome to the ending of the five pence tour. Perhaps more will come if the urge strikes, or if some freakish demand is raised.