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Sunday, November 23rd, 2003Last night I tried to explain to Lara how the last week’s myriad of revelations makes me feel. I settled on “schizophrenic”, but that’s not really it. I feel like I don’t know how I feel, like I have innumerable incongruous emotions about each separate thing. In short, it’s confusing being me, and more so when I don’t have any means of working through it all, and no great desire to explore them all with yous* in this neat little forum I’ve created for myself. Because, you see, I have these things called essays, and I need to work through deciphering them before I can decipher myself. Sucks to be a scholar. Though talking like that could solve all my problems, I suppose. I wonder what would happen if my essay for Reading Medieval Literature contained the phrase “Chaucer’s polysemous narrative encourages his reader to consider the sources of their stories rather than blindly accepting the morals therein articulated like a bunch of ignorant sucks.” It would be a novel interpretation, anyway. After all my weeks here (10 already!) I thought I would be getting used to the little differences, but I find that tiny things can still freak me out. I may have mentioned this before, but one of the things that consistently weirds me is the fact that they keep the eggs in the grocery stores in the baking/breads section, not in the refrigerated aisles. Is this not bizarre? This week’s freakiness is a lot more shocking I think: when I hand in my essays, I have to hand in a floppy disc with the file on it as well. It’s not that I find handing in a computerized copy strange, I actually think it’s really cool. Maybe someday I’ll be able to simply email my essays in instead of sprinting to the English department. But on a floppy disc? What is that? Who has floppy discs anymore? My iBook doesn’t even have a disc drive, nor have any of the computers my family has owned in the past eight or so years. Fortunately, R. has a disc drive in her laptop, and there are blueberry iMacs in the library with external disc drives beside each, so it’s not a problem to get it on a disc in time. But still. Honestly, I don’t want to be condescending or anything, but sometimes living here is like living in the stone ages. Or at least the eighties. Same difference.
* This is my other recent discovery. Apparently, “yous” is in wide use here as second person plural. While I used to think it a ridiculous mistake in proper English, I have become quite fond of it of late. It makes me giggle, and now I want to use it all the time. How does that make yous feel?
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