Okay, everyone who's not bored or ridiculous, skip this part. If you don't have some reason to prioritize TOTALLY gratuitous pet footage, this is not for you. I'm determined to put it up though, since I spent 40 minutes trying to edit the thing. Anyway, here's Smokey rolling his girth around in some catnip:

He's a hostile bundle of love. We've got the night-biting down to a minimum though, which was necessary. For a while he was waking me up at 5am with his teeth. He never broke the skin or even bruised me, but that is not a nice way to wake up. I've cut him down to 2/3 cup of kibble a day (as you can see, he's very overweight and the only exercise he gets is jumping on my bed for a 6 hour nap) and it seems to run out around that time of the morning. So, I now sleep with a spritzer bottle under my pillow. He doesn't seem to like being sprayed in the face. It really only took two tries, which is encouraging. He's 10, so I can't have the wildest expectations, but there are some things that are pretty basic, like don't bite the hand the feeds you. Anyway, enough with that.

All you busy people can come back now, let's get down to business. My birthday was last Monday, which was a bit of a bummer, as I have class at 9:30 Tuesday morning. Nonetheless, I went home on Friday night and basically just reveled in the love (and booze) for three days. I love my friends, ya'll are awesome. Far and near, but it was particularly great to celebrate my birthday in Ithaca for a change. This time of year, for the last three, I've been getting to know new people and new places and I've been mostly alone, except for the wonderful 25th birthday party Andrew threw for me two years ago. I was looking at the framed picture Leah and Melissa gave me that year, sigh. Anyway, Sunday was the real celebration day, my Mom made pot roast with all the trimmings, and afterwards I hung with everyone at Madeleine's. So many people came, it was wonderful, all the more so since Amy just got back from her Boca trip.

The point is, you're all awesome. Thanks from the tips of my toes.

Academically everything is going rather swimmingly, despite the fact that I'm constantly shirking the full depth and breadth of my responsibility. It's not that I do nothing, I just don't take a solid shot at everything. A failure of motivation, as ever. Nonetheless, I am enjoying my classes, so let's have a rundown:

Tuesday I have Prof. Miller's Philosophical Foundations of Western Religion course, which I thoroughly enjoy. The level of discussion in these seminars is like nothing I've ever seen before, people actually talk and have evocative ideas. I try to contribute as best I can, but I still get shaky and discombobulated when I speak in class. This too shall pass. We're reading Plato, Plotinus, Origen, Gregory of Nyssa... those are the books on the shelf in front of me. We do weekly response papers which I remember from Prof. Steele's Boethius class last year. They're good to do, in the sense that exercising is good to do, but I still find myself gritting my teeth every Monday night. No pain, no gain. There's a pithy bit of traditional wisdom for everything.

Wednesday at 9am I have Prof. Caputo's Levinas and Deleuze class, we're reading (among other things) Totality and Infinity and Difference and Repetition. What's going to kill me in this course is the pace. I don't even have time to formulate questions before we're on to the next bit of text. Makes me feel like an idiot actually, but I think it's a matter of training. I need to brush up on my scan and summarize skills anyway.

For lunch on Wednesdays I am treated by the department, for the Master's seminar. Basically what happens is the new Masters students are given a paper to read in advance, and then the faculty member comes in and talks about it for an hour and a half or so. It's required, and I get lunch. Does it get any better? I don't know. The only problem of course is that I often fail to come up with good questions, which I am also required to do. Again, I shouldn't let the calming effect of food undermine my basic fear of public humiliation. Priorities.

On Thursdays I have Prof. Watts' Idea of Scripture class, which is my first up and down religion course. I have to cut down a sapling to print out all the readings each week, but overall I'm finding it really interesting. I still have no idea what I will write my paper on, but Dr. Watts assures me I still have time to think about it.

In other news I've been spending more time with the other graduate students. I actually sang karaoke the other night! A bad mishmashed version of Mr. Bojangles, but I did in fact "sing" and got a hug from a man that assured me I would find my voice, and had complimented me on my Bettie Page bangs. Ultimately, I think I win. Everyone in the department seems really great, once again, everything's coming up Cake.

I'm even getting a handle on my work, doing it several days in advance. I'm still taking too much time on it, not working smart but merely hard, but I'm sure eventually I'll get the hang of it.

At any rate, I miss all of you that aren't here. I hope all is well wherever you are.

Esse

Czeslaw Milosz

I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of metro
stations flew by; I didn't notice them. What can be done,
if our sight lacks absolute power to devour objects
ecstatically, in an instant, leaving nothing more than the
void of an ideal form, a sign like a hieroglyph simplified
from the drawing of an animal or bird? A slightly snub
nose, a high brow with sleekly brushed-back hair, the
line of the chin - but why isn't the power of sight
absolute? - and in a whiteness tinged with pink two
sculpted holes, containing a dark, lustrous lava. To
absorb that face but to have it simultaneiously against
the background of all spring boughs, walls, waves, in its
weeping, its laughter, moving it back fifteen years, or
ahead thirty. To have. It is not even a desire. Like a
butterfly, a fish, the stem of a plant, only more
mysterious. And so it befell me that after so many
attempts at naming the world, I am able only to repeat,
harping on one string, the highest, the unique avowel
beyond which no power can attain: I am, she is. Shout,
blow the trumpets, make thousands-strong marches,
leap, rend your clothing, repeating only: is!

She got out at Raspail. I was left behind with the
immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering
because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering
because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds
and trees.

from Uncollected Poems (1954-1969)

Ahh the blogosphere... I've been away for a while, but in a sense, this is something of a sideshow, and I will remind everyone that even the freaks need a hiatus now and then.

I've been moving around a lot. Ithaca, Pittsburgh, Rochester, Toronto, Long Island, Syracuse, all more or less in the span of three months and I am bone tired. It doesn't help that the Syracuse religion department throws you on your feet as soon as you step in the door, but of course it bears mentioning that they do everything I've never expected a department to do to support their graduate students. It literally feels like I just walked into someone's living room, and I'm supposed to find my place and contribute... An odd combination of hospitality and capture. That being said, life is good.

Let's begin at the beginning. Coming home was even more than my nostalgia made it out to be. I have a high capacity for idealization, as is readily apparent, still I failed to imagine what awaited me. Ithaca is one of those places that you're lucky enough to find, let alone be from. I actually get anxious trying to describe it, because it's so experiential. It's not anything I could list about Ithaca that would convey what it is, so of course my arsenal fails. I'm a great lister, I like modifiers. To put it in an utterly banal way, I'm recharged, ready to go.

Going back to Pittsburgh was a trip. I miss the people. It was great hanging out with everyone, catching up, one dollar pints of PBR. If you put a lime or a lemon in a PBR, it's a totally different beer. I thought I would miss the Belgian beer, and I do sometimes, but honestly it's all beer to me. I have a very utilitarian view of it. Don't get me wrong, Belgian beer is way better, but in the end I think I'd rather socially drink four beers than drink one too fast and pass out uttering strings of unintelligibles.

At any rate, Pittsburgh too is a special place, I wish it was closer so there could be a more ready exchange. People are doing exciting things and I miss being a part of the conversation. I can't handle the environmental factors though. The industrialization, pollution, lack of infrastructure, economic depression and terrible grocery offerings make me feel like I'm stooping all the time, avoiding blows and becoming bitter by the minute. Some people thrive in that atmosphere, but I'm a hippie at heart, I'd rather be surrounded by farms and relatively clean air.

Toronto was bittersweet. I will love the city until I die, but I have made a hostile atmosphere for myself in certain quarters and so the feeling of homelessness is dramatically exacerbated. Gotta deal. It's a big city, and all the things I love about it are still the same, thank god. Seeing a few really close friends made it more than worth it. I'll be going again soon for others I didn't get a chance to see.

The big event in Toronto, of course, warrants its own paragraph. Leah and Ian got married. It was unlike any wedding I've ever been to, though naturally when two creative and beautiful people get married, it's usually likewise beautiful and creative. Claire and Luke's wedding was also an event for the books, as it were. (I delight in American idiom, I defy anyone who says English isn't a philosophical language.) So Leah and Ian got married, literally surrounded in a many layered circle of family and friends, and everyone cried and was happy. Leah's vow was utterly beautiful in sentiment and her unique spirituality, and the whole ceremony had a kind of joyous solemnity about it. The food was good, the bar was open, and I have great pictures out in the ether. I'll post the pic of the David Niners here, it's good to store historical records in more than one place. Well, different pockets anyway.

(Tina, Leah, me, Melissa)

Coming to Syracuse was a many staged process, and I still don't feel completely here yet. But this is one of the milestones: getting back to a writing (and reading) routine. I am so far behind of any schedule I could propose for myself that there have already been a few hundred-meter dashes. I don't mind really. There's been a big shakeup in Ashleyland and I have to get back to full speed a few baby steps at a time.

Speaking of shakeup, I'm not the only one. Old Smokey has joined me from Grandma's house and twice (!) he was dropped, including once -- on his head -- by me. It took him a few days to do anything but hide, including eat or go to the bathroom, but now he's levelling out. I bought him some treats and accomodations and he's getting less nervous every day. He's discovered my bed, and now thinks it's his. It forces me to make my bed at any rate, and he's cute when he's sleeping. I got him this pink basket -- it was the only color they had -- with imitation sheep's wool as a bed, and put some catnip in it. Now it's like his girlfriend. He hardly even lays in it, just rolls around and talks, kneads it with his clawless paws. I'm sure the catnip is gone by now, it must be the association.

Meantime, I've been trying to get comfortable in the new place. My apartment is easy, it's just time and money. I love living alone. No demands, no one else to worry about ('cept Smokey), I leave the dishes as long as I want, I put everything where I can reach it, it's glorious. The department is a different story. Trying to find a place for myself in a tight-knit, highly congenial academic atmosphere -- in a different discipline -- is like coming in from the cold and getting dirty snow on someone's authentic persian rug. It's unnerving to misread situations here. I put my foot in my mouth on a daily basis. I think it's part and parcel with my social anxiety: it's relatively assured that I will make an ass of myself as soon as I get comfortable. I'm far too forthcoming with half-baked speculations and sentimental excess. My friends accept this about me, even if they're not consciously aware of it. Friends are rare, I try to keep them, but I'm not awesome at it.

I think I'll end it there. It's time to figure out what to do next. I wrote a paper and gave a presentation last night and this afternoon, so I'm taking the rest of the day off reading and writing. I need to put pictures and mirrors up, and generally get this place in working shape.

I hope everyone is well.

Cake