Cabinet of Curiosities

I was talking to a friend about keeping a blog the other day and she wanted to read it. I pointed out that it has about 4 entries, none of which are particularly amusing or fascinating. I still didn't want her to read it though and I'm not sure why.

There's nothing here I wouldn't talk to her about anyway and I'm not very good at keeping up with it so I doubt if her interest would be sparked for more than a second. On the other hand, I'm not in the least bit bothered by people I don't know reading it and forming whatever opinions they want to either.

I think the thing is that I want something for myself at the moment and if my friends start to read it I'll get even more reticent about writing in it.

I don't feel comfortable writing about Jack/my friends/my emotions in any depth here in case anyone comes to read it. The original idea was to keep a record of what I was thinking about at this point in time for future reference, but I really don't feel comfortable writing about a whole wealth of stuff, good and bad, I'm experiencing at present.

Which makes the whole thing rather pointless really.

I'm not quote sure why anyone keeps these things in the first place. Do they do it to make friends and connect with other people? Or do people keep them, as I intended to do, as something to look back on later?

This is a particularly incoherant entry - I blame the fact I had terrible insomnia and nightmares last night and have been in work since 8am for a meeting that never happened.

PS. Off to Granada for a week tomorrow - hurrah!

Oh my Lord, what were these American students thinking?

It seems in a couple of colleges white American students have been celebrating Martin Luther King Day (Jan 15) by dressing up as 'gangstas', stuffing the back of their pants to make their arses look big and eating fried chicken. Because this is what black America means to them apparently.

How they can have reached college age and retained this level of ignorance astounds me.

I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen the photos. Look at these and tell me they aren't incredibly offensive:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0125071mlk1.html

http://theriseguys.com/CLEMSONMLK.html

I just sent my husband, hereafter known as Jack, for 'tis his name, a jokey email asking when he'll be home addressed to 'my darling sqidgybum' from his little 'honeyfarts'. Naturally this popped up on his open email browser as he was talking to a colleague at his desk. Apparently he scrolled down pretty fast - so all they saw was Honeyfarts. Obviously I sent him another one signed his 'darling Sugarfanny'.

Any festival with this level of embarrasment involved can't be all bad.

Happy Valentine's Day anonymous blog people.

I love you all, you scurvy bastards,

From your little Candynipples xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Valentine’s Day probably has it’s roots in the pagan Roman festival of Lupercalia (Febuary 15th). Apparently, on this day, a dog and two goats would be sacrificed and the blood smeared onto 2 naked young men who then dressed to goatskin loincloths and ran around the town whipping people with lengths of goats hide. This was supposed to encourage fertility. And lo - there was feasting and celebration.

On the day before Lupercalia, the names of the young men and women were put into a lottery and were drawn in pairs. The man and woman drawn would then take each other as ‘lovers’ for the rest of the festival. I’m not sure if this meant they actually had sex or not but it was all exciting enough anyway for the church to come along and make it boring!

So there you go. Personally I’m not a big fan of Valentine’s day – though I have made my husband a happy Lupercalia card and we’re planning to eat big, juicy steaks and drink a good bottle of wine because we never need much excuse for that. I think we will forgo and ritual sacrifice and goatskin loincloths though. And the sex lottery – I imagine the suspense is lessened if there are only two of you, especially if you draw yourself.

To anyone a bit miserable today, sod it all and go out for a few drinks with your mates. If you want to meet someone, all the single people will be out with friends and if you don’t, you can be cheered by the sight of all the couples getting ripped off in packed restaurants. It may be a lousy day if your single, but the expectations make it fairly irritating if you’re in a relationship too.

Or better still, grab your goatskin whip and go and spread some Lupercalia cheer.

Today I volunteered for some research at the hospital where I work (not in a medical capacity – as will be made obvious by the ignorance of the human body displayed in the rest of this post). It was completely non-invasive and involved no drugs, just a series of cardiograms and ultrasounds to check my cardio-vascular system.

I was slightly concerned about this as I’ve always assumed I was one of those people who look healthy and slim to the outside world but who are actually carrying around a ton of lard in their arteries. But no, apparently I have an exceptionally healthy cardio-vascular system which I can’t tally with all the beer, chocolate and cheese I consume – not to mention my exceptional laziness. There must REALLY REALLY be something in the red wine and garlic thing.

Anyway, what I really wanted to write about was that it’s so peculiar to look at your heart on a monitor. So odd, floating like a jellyfish – but moving really quickly, like a clenching fist. I find it hard to get my head around the fact that what I saw on the screen was actually inside my body. I suppose when I think about my existence, I think more about my mental consciousness than my physical body and it was strange to see such a clear example that I’m just a mammal. It was very cool though. We don’t get enough opportunities to see inside our own bodies.

The last time I really thought about my physicality and mortality was at the Body Worlds exhibition a few years ago (Gunther von Hagens’ preserved dead people) when I felt sickened and terrified by the obvious reminder that I’m just a bag of skin, blood and organs and that I’m going to die, though I think the nausea was mostly caused by the unpleasant smell of the chemicals used in his plastination technique. I’ve nothing against the Body Worlds exhibition. It’s educational and extremely leveling – we’re all the same under our skin. I’m just not brave enough to face my own mortality.

Looking at my own organs though? That’s great. I am very glad I did it and that I’m healthy and that I got to say Hello to my heart.

...it's snowing. 

This is both fabulous and shite.  Everything looks very pretty and I'm looking forward to some comedy attempts to make a snowman in the dark when I get home this evening, but walking to the station this morning would have been easier with crampons and an ice-pick.  I'm aware that it's far more important to grit the roads than the pavements, but they could have made an effort on the station platforms at least. 

Maybe it's a Surrey attitude, that everyone who's worthwhile drives around in a 4x4 with 3 dead foxes stuck to the bumper rather than actually walking.  

Or maybe most people don't think sensible winter footwear consists of retro, suede Golas. 

Also, three separate groups of kids tried to throw snowballs at me (possibly my turquoise hat is too much of a temptation) and missed by a woeful distance this morning.  I don't know what they're teaching them in school these days... 

Anyway, this is my new blog, set up after discussion with a mate who's studying journalism at the moment.  I have absolutely nothing of interest to say and instead plan to bang on about Japanese cinema, comics and other proofs of my eternal geekery.