Take These Plastic People

I'm tired, and it's been a hell of a week.

Last weekend we went up to Santa Fe, to what had been my grandfather's house, and I acquired an old mirror in a stained-glass frame that was my mom's and was made by my grandfather. But, it's at my aunt's house, not mine, because it wouldn't fit into our trunk. Also, finally, after nearly four years, I found out what my grandfather died of. A heart attack. Not some sort of lung disease, as I'd thought.

Monday I dropped a class. Feminist Inquiry. It wasn't what I'd anticipated, and it was too disorganized, so to hell with that. I wish I could also say to hell with the Sea Captain and his Analysis of Literature class, because it's pedantic and boring. But, I already wrote about Tuesday, no need to rehash it here. Thursday was better. Met Seth, lately back from England. Also got my Shakespeare paper back, and that was good.

And now, I'm tired, so I think I'll go to sleep before anyone else tells me that I should just say exactly what the Sea Captain wants me to say.

On Ivy Day

Tonight was the first of a series of lectures on the Irish Rennaissance. The lecture was pretty interesting; it was on occultism and nationalism in the Irish Rennaissance, so there was quite a bit on Yeats and his "A Vision." Unfortunately, I was sleepy and it was kind of dark because there were slides, so my attention drifted a bit.

There was a reception afterwards, which I went to. The Sea Captain was there, of course, because he was one of the organizers of the lecture series. He told a joke that was quite funny, though. He's not so bad when not in the classroom, but the classroom is largely where I deal with him. So, I still hate the man.

During the lecture, the lecturer, Margaret Hills Harper, mentioned the poem/song "Come Gather Round Ye Parnellites" and joked about singing it at the reception after a bit of wine. She actually did sing it, though, which was pretty cool. And especially fitting for the day, because it is Ivy Day, the anniversary of Parnell's death. (I don't know if I'm spelling that right, because I've only heard it, not seen it written.)

Also at the reception I ran into an old teacher of mine; his wife was there playing the Celtic harp. And the lecturer said she liked my hair.