|
no one knows, i live in a dream 28 January 2003 - 10:29 pm
donna woke me up this morning at 8, like i asked her too... i need her to sit and talk to me or i am in danger of falling asleep again. she checked her email while i writhed around under the covers and groaned about having to get up. even though i had two hours before the bus came, i managed to miss it. i spent an hour talking to donna and another hour eating oatmeal, reading the mercury, and staring at my closet deciding what to wear. i thought a walk might be nice anyway, as i saw the bus cross division from my window. it seemed so warm today, and i saw a cherry tree starting to bloom, and camellia trees. i didn't remember the trees blooming so early before. i like to look at the outline a bare tree makes against the sky, like a fractal. i compare the angles made by the branches of different trees. i like some outlines better than others. i pulled two leaves off a hedge and put them sticking out of my jacket pocket: big, heavy, waxy leaves. past holgate, julia saw me and pulled over to give me a ride, which was lucky because i barely made it to my class on time.
all day i felt like i was in love. maybe it was the sun glistening on the wet sidewalk. my classes are so amazing, i almost can't sit still. my first class today (communism & after: ethnography of a strange world [i like the title]) is taught by a hilariously charming professor from yugoslavia. he referred to us as comrades and told us he wanted to run the class like a soviet bureaucracy. the class was large--25 people or so--and we were squeezed in a little basement room in eliot hall, crowded around a big wooden table, light coming in the high windows onto the blackboard. he put on a documentary to give us some idea of the history of the russian revolution. it was unlike any documentary i'd ever seen; it felt more like propaganda. heroic marches played behind franticly flickering black and white films of heroic russians. the narrator dictated at breakneck speed while crowds stormed the winter palace, peasants threshed wheat, or soldiers galloped off on horseback. they even threw in some of the more thrilling parts from mahler's first and third symphonies, while russian workers marched around with large banners, which made me extremely happy. my second class, signs, was on the top floor of eliot hall, in an even smaller classroom, actually an attic room with sloping ceilings and a little window opening out into the sky. before the teacher arrived, the group of mostly linguistics students discussed the class. one person asked what the professor was like, and someone answered "he's extremely nervous." living up to his reputation, he walked in late and flustered, spread a stack of books on the table, and said, "so this is signs, and here are some signs." he threw a handful of postcards at the class, on which were printed random images: a platypus, a housewife opening a fridge, a skull. he stuttered and said "um um um um um um um" and rubbed his face with his hands and sighed deeply. the class was the same size as my first one, but the room was about half as small. students who came in too late to get a chair crammed onto the few feet of floor space not taken up by the table. it felt like a big slumber party. the windows were wide open and i looked out at the sky and wondered how i got so lucky.
all my classes this semester are in eliot hall. it's my favorite building, the oldest one, and i've never had very many classes there. it looks like a big gothic castle. when i was a freshman my ancient greek class was taught on the 4th floor, and i remember walking up all the polished linoleum steps holding onto the big wooden banister. it's always dusky and thick with ghosts in those hallways. i guess the way to get classes in eliot is to be an anthro major.
and signs:
anthropology of europe: i just like looking at lists of books, stacks of books. |
[ past ] [ future ]