Friday Night in August

Here am I, sitting before a computer on a night when Sylvia Plath would be looking for dates (if she wasn't staying in like me). Yes, I am obssessed with the subject of my study. But it is a healthy obssession, and hopefully would give birth to a new book.

I often wonder, and still do, why do I do what I do. Why do I sit in a table, with three other people that I barely know, and watch them talk, and hear their uncomfortable silences, as they try to make conversation with each other, under my unmoving gaze. Perhaps it is to derive comfort in the company of strangers? Or to discover a different world that I have never inhabited. Why do I crack my head so hard, working on a book (which will begin life as a dissertation), when I could just hav fulfilled minimal requirements and get my Degree. But then, is that the reason why I embarked on that course of study? What is the use of a paper qualification in Literature if one does not have an enriching experience to accompany it?

I would like to share an article by feminist, Katha Politt, that I have googled up. I first read her when one of her opinion essays was published in New Yorker, talking about how she would webstalk her ex-lover by googling and searching online for what tenuous connection there was to him. Strange for a feminist to do that, you say? Well, feminist or no feminist, sometimes the heart and emotions get the better of us. I have been guilty of googling up people, from former lovers to former lovers of lovers. Friends and acquaintances have also been web-checked (or webstalked) by me. So, what can I say ? :P

I have bought another New Yorker (Aug 2 issues, they come late over here in Malaysia) and a collection of short stories by Italo Calvino. It seems that I would forgo all the girly stuff, namely clothes, shoes, bags and make-up just to save up money for books and more books. I wouldn't even buy anything beyond the printed material when I travel abroad to Europe, though I make the exceptions when I go to places like Thailand and Indonesia. As a colleague says, my sense of fashion is often disastrous (due to the fact that I don't really have enough clothes to match for all 5 days of work and so I end up with mismatched items. I tend to have more casuals (Read T-Shirts, pants and shorts) than work or party wear (which can be counted with my toes and fingers, though they look like more when I mix and match with more casual shifts). I only have one unbroken bag (bought at some cheap sale in my hometown up north), 6 pairs of shoes (including two pairs of heels, one an old fashion black strappy pair I got from a sale in London) and a pair of sandals. I do like manicures and pedicures ( I treat myself to them once a month or once in two months, and not always doing both simultaneously), hair treatments for problematic hair and scalp(which I now decide to do myself to save) and even facials when my skin looks stressed up (and this is because I actually have a full-time job for a change). I guess I can save myself from having to do the latter two if I just bloody move out of the city, which is what I would do, once my current contract ends (I need to save money then). It is the cause of my skin and hair problems, and the fact that I live in a hole without a kitchen precludes me from ever being able to cook, hence creating dietary problems as well.

I suppose I should stop here instead of boring you with the more frivolous aspects of my life. Back to New Yorker...