in the darkest night

Friday, January 20, 2006

I hate Christians.
About two weeks ago, on Jan. 9, I went into the hospital with contractions. I was only 26 weeks pregnant at that point and having babies at 26 weeks is BAD. I dilated 3 cm and they made me lie in bed strapped to a fetal monitor and an IV for 24 hours. They gave me four or five shots of the worst drug in existence, Tributyline, which makes you feel like you just overdosed on caffeine. Thankfully, the contractions stopped and they let me out of the hospital, but I've been in bed ever since, and the doctor told me I'm not allowed to get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or take a shower (which I don't really have the stamina for at this point anyway).
Tonight, I told one of my "friends" from school about this.
Her response? "I'll pray for you."
I am so incensed.
It's a cop-out! A self-placating fantasy she can tell herself so she doesn't actually have to do anything to help me. "I'll tell my imaginary friend to make it all better for you!"
This is so annoying! She also "prayed" to make my morning sickness go away! Gee, maybe this prayer thing really works...I don't have any of that anymore!

Saturday, October 01, 2005

I'm getting really fucking pissed at these stupid spam comments. YOU BASTARDS MUST DIE. Therefore, taking a cue from my uncle, I have officially started requiring word verification in order to post a comment on my blog. SO FUCKING THERE, SPAM BOTS!
I bought a NY Times crossword puzzle book today. V. good. I'm going to meet Bob's extended family in the morning...eeeeeeeeek!

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Tonight, I started reading some of Bob's books that I hadn't already raided from his mom's house. After sifting through piles of really dull and/or confusing philosophy tomes, I found a brightly colored little one called "Structuralism and Post-Structuralism for Beginners". I have had experience with his other "for Beginners" books; the one on Wittgenstein is very disturbing and makes no sense whatsoever. However, they usually have a lot of cute cartoons and little sidebars that I can amuse myself with when the actual subject becomes too boring (often). As I perused this highly amusing little book, I came upon the following page:
"Freud had told of observing an 18-month old baby who invented a simple game in which he would throw a spool out of his crib, saying 'oooh' as he did so, then pull it back into the crib by a string attached to it, saying 'aah' as he retrieved it. Freud interpreted 'oooh' as the German word 'Fort' (away) and 'ah' as 'Da' (here) and explained that it symbolized to the child the painful disappearance of its mother followed by her comforting return.
"Lacan points out that this act of symbolism allows the child to dominate the mystery and terror of the experience of the mother's repeated disappearance, but says that the displacement of the experience onto the symbol also inaugurates the alienation of subjectivity into language that will from then on always be its fate. In fact, the human being is the subject caught and tortured in the web of language. It is this feature of human existence that accounts both for normality and madness."

This, I feel, explains in one neat little package why there is only one female philosopher listed in Wikipedia (Sartre's girlfriend).
Women have enough sense to realize that babies like throwing things.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

I'd just settled myself into bed when I realized my beef with religion. I don't think there's anything better than life on earth. Now, I know what you must be thinking..."Emily is always complaining and she's always depressed, wtf is she talking about?" However, if you take a little time to journey into my mind, perhaps you will understand (and perhaps not)...
This mental dialogue (yes, I meant dialogue) was spurred on by, of all things, an English assignment. As many of you (well, at least two out of three) may know, I *hate* my English class. However, I am attempting to actually pass it, and in order to do that I have to do a lot of homework. Tonight's assignment was Bertrand Russell's "Three Passions" and questions about this piece. This piece was very, very short. However, it is very thought-provoking and the questions they asked me about it required not only deep thought but a lot of careful wording and rewording. The question is as follows: "Russell writes, '[I]n the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined' (paragraph 2). Most people, whether they believe in heaven in a religious sense or not, have a concept of an ideal place of perfect love and harmony. What on earth - perhaps a place, a relationship, an individual, or a situation - comes closest to giving you a 'prefiguring vision' of heaven? What is it about that place, person, or thing that seems heavenly to you?"
I'm slightly confused as to how to answer this question. I find myself conflicted.
I flatly and unconditionally do not believe in heaven, religious sense or not. I prefer not to waste today dreaming of a tomorrow that almost certainly will not come. Death is death. We are not here very long, and it doesn't get any better than this. That is not to say, however, that "this" is bad; quite to the contrary. Life is fun. Frustrating, tiring, depressing, and futile...yes, but also fun. Living and working and breathing and learning and loving and growing and GOD HELP ME parenting are challenges I am facing and will face and I will not love every minute of it but when I look back at it I will be overwhelmingly happy that it has happened as it has, especially because Bob is there with me. By the way, Bob, I'm doing all that thinking you wanted me to do so badly. I don't have much else to do without you around (insert gibberish).
I guess in the spirit of Mr. Russell's essay I can say that the heaven of saints and poets is in my heart, as sappy as that might sound. I'm just frustrated by the cutesy and thoughtless answers of my classmates to this question. Most of them involve small children with dimples and halos. While I can understand that your children are extraordinarily precious and you love them so much, using them as a description for a "prefiguring vision of heaven" is akin to rolling out the five-foot-thick photo album to show to perfect strangers on an elevator how perfect your child is and always has been. Or dressing them up like whores and making them do beauty pageants. They're KIDS for fuck's sake. Mini humans with brains and feelings, not your personal mood lifting drug...

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

What to do, what to say?
School has started, sort of. I'm taking all my classes online, and they all jumped the gun except one class, Intro to Logic, which I'm hoping is not as hard as I think it will be. I'm trying to do one of my assignments right now, but I can't think of the proper wording. I can't do some of the other assignments yet because I don't have any books and I don't have my software for my programming class because I'm living at Bob's house and I don't have my computer. Rawr.
Bob starts school tomorrow.
This should be interesting. I hate being here, because his parents don't really want me here, and they hate our new kittens (Squeaky and Godman). Our kittens are SO CUTE. They're very frisky and loving, and they love playing together too. Anyway, nothing new to report. Maybe something in a couple of days, hmm?

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Instructions for making your day better:
1. Go to Google.
2. Type in "failure"
3. Laugh.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

My roommate is very, very obnoxious.
When he moved in, he insisted that we get digital cable, and that he would pay for it. Great. There was only one catch. That was all he could afford to pay! I tried to kick him out when the goddamn cable bill reached $200/month and I was paying everything but. He said no. And since he's on the lease, and there's no agreement written down about him paying a certain percentage, I can't do anything about it. Since then I got the cable bill down to half that, and hopefully the phone bill (which was $80/month) reduced a fair bit; now that it's summer, however, the electric bill is through the roof. Since I'm the one paying it, I decided to take my air conditioner from the living room, where he sleeps, and put it in my bedroom. Yay! At least now I have a livable room. That's only a small sample, though. The thing that has me really ticked off today is that he sent me to Wal-Mart to buy his dad a DVD that "comes out today" because he's at work and doesn't have time to get it himself. Fine, whatever. I can handle it. In, out, done. Not so. Thus begins today's story:

With sweat pouring from her brow and suspicious eyes scanning the milling, obese hicks in stained pajama pants and too-tight shirts, our heroine enters the lion's den. She strains her ears for the sound of malicious laughter as her thoughts race pointlessly, round and round her head. This many people in one place makes her wish she were invisible. As she dodges a cluster of skinny white homies with thick, fake silver chains and sideways hats she stares at a point in the space between her and the next wobbly weeble tottering down the aisles. She weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, just-not-quite inconveniencing a slow-moving cart-infested consumer with glazed eyes. A quick right turn brings her to the electronics section and she begins speed-reading the New Releases. Frowning, with her quarry eluding her, she slides around the shelf to look at the other side. More and more New Releases flash past her eyes. She scans the shelves again. Nope, no Sin City. Stepping sideways once more she reads the titles on the front more slowly. Constantine, Darkness, XXX...suddenly a sign catches her eye. Sin City, it says, Tuesday, August 16th.
Aghast, our heroine bolts for the door with steam pouring from her ears and death in her eyes, past the searching black eyes of the imps guarding the door, cutting across the parking lot with a haughty "you wouldn't dare hit me" look past nearby cars. Finally reaching the asylum of her car, she slumps back against the seat and plots the offender's destruction. He will pay.