Not really sure that anyone follows this silly online journal of sorts, but it's time for a very, very, very brief update. I'm down to revisions on my chapters one, two & five! I am half way finished with chapter three, which will allow me to either write the transitional chapter regarding 19th African American literature & canonical US and British works that use similar imagery and language that will gloss through specific images in Dumas, WW Brown, Charlotte Brontë, Mary Shelley, EA Poe, Harriet Jacobs, Harriet Beecher-Stowe; or, become an introduction to the current chapter five, which deals strictly with the resurgence of African American culture and literati's fascination with the Haitian Revolution during the Harlem Renaissance.
The season of Saturnalia is upon us. I buy a toy or toys for anonymous kiddos, however, I do not necessarily participate in many mainstream practices of the occidental celebrations of this holiday. My family and friends understand my position on the preoccupation of our capitalistic celebrations of Christmas, and I appreciate that they know I will call them, but I won't send them a card because I believe cards in general are wasteful and then become clutter to those who give a mass-produced paper object such strong sentimental import. Rather than buy people things once a year, I try to tell my friends and remaining family how much I love and appreciate them throughout the year... and I do give gifts; ie, KL gets random RUSH items whenever I come across something cool, LL get's smiley face things, Mom gets nice shoes and her car cleaned out, her shrubberies trimmed, her plants watered, a compost hole dug, her French drains cleaned out, she knows where the guns are, ha. I deal with her WWII realities of anti-waste and necessity, and also I'm her occasional strong arm-- neighborhood bully chick who first writes a passive aggressive note to neighbors who park in front of her house, and waits to see them park facing the wrong direction, then calls the cops. My sister has everything so I respect that and don't get her anything. She wouldn't like it anyway, and I so respect that because that's what I tell people all the time-- "If you really want to get me something take me shopping, or give me the freaking money, or better yet go walk dog at the humane society or take your well-behaved pet to a nursing home on a Saturday," that is spreading love and joy. Just because your mom thinks you'll look adorable in something like that pink rabbit pajamas set the poor kid gets in "A Christmas Story" doesn't mean that your dwindling space will allow for something so intensely useless... and I'm not even going to elaborate on how annoying that would be in a city like Copenhagen, where people live in even smaller spaces than the post 1980 constructed domiciles that US citizens have adapted to.
Oh boy! Rambling is so very much fun, but I am back to the glorious process of revising, revising, revising... pretty sure I'll rant some more about December issues, and then include a list of everything I want for my birthday, which should really be a national holiday... (sarcasm), and it kind of is-- at least Punxsutawney Phil & I think so.
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