Ok, before I start this, I'm going to talk about my mother for a minute. She and I went to dinner at the Dube this evening, followed by a trip to see the Stadium Bandroom.
During the course of our conversations, we talked about her Master thesis and He Doctoral disscertation. It seems her point was that Humanities programs exist only where "someone" (faculty, students, administration) wants them to exist. The she proceeded to tell me a rather dirty story about her time as OSUMB secretary. It seems that the bad had a starched and laquered bull penis named "Roger" that served as the band mascot. Well, I guess Jack Evans (director of the band for quite some time) called for her to send him the bullhorn. She sent Roger. We also discussed prison reform and drug law reform, and when I spoke my opinion on Iraq, she brought up that the same kind of thinking allowed Hitler to stay in power.
I am now typing on a new keyboard, since the old one died a painful death earlier this afternoon. I'm seriously contemplating giving the old keyboard a good toss from my bedroom window.
Tonight, my pretties, I'm rather contemplative. I know I've refered to the people onm my friend list as the Mos Eisley Cantina Band at varying points, but tonight, I'd like to think of you all as an old jazz band, playing the blues while I sip bathtub gin in a speakeasy.
I had a really odd conversation with Herb last night via MSN messenger. We ended up talking about queer seperation vs queer assimilation. Of course, other minorities were discussed within the context of this, but...I still find myself dwelling on it. I see Herb's point, that minorities should not have to think of themselves as separate from society as a whole, because being part of a minority is just a small part of being human. But I also see that at least for me, being gay does color my perceptions of the world. I want people to accept me as I am, warts and all, but I don't want to have to change myself to fit some hive mind's opinion of what normal is. Does this make sense?
Most of this came up because we were discussing my fear of being rejected by my friends, and how I was thinking of trying to get in to the GLB specific psychiatric clinic again. *sighs* And of course, as we're talking, I start to realize that he's another of the people I care about who I've never had the courage to tell exactly how I feel about him.
Yes, I'm being mopey. But I did get the new David Stukas novel out of the library, along with the *shudder* new David and Leigh Eddings novel. I really hope they've bothered to pick up a thesaurus this time. I hate reading books where the author(s) use the same 2 adjectives repeatedly. I'm hoping they will cheer me up, particulaly since I just finished re-reading Sandman: The Wake. Actually, what really got me was World's End when I found myself helplessly in love with the narrator.
So that was my day. I'm going to drink a beer and go to bed now.