2005-03-14 - 1:18 p.m.

peanut butter and jelly optical mouse

Jar of peanut butter: $1.19
Jar of raspberry preserves: $1.45
Loaf of bread: Not sure, it's been in the freezer so long... let's say a dollar.
Optical mouse: $25
Eating a squishy peanut butter and jelly sandwhich while working on the computer without worrying about gumming up a mouse ball: Priceless.
Seriously- I've destroyed a mouse like that before. But with my little optical baby, I can get jelly all over it and just lick it clean. Awsome! Now if I could do something about the sticky keyboard...

2005-03-13 - 10:07 p.m.

I compulsively check my own blog

I compulsively check my own blog. You know, in case I've updated it since I last updated it... which if you know me can't have been more than a couple hours ago. Does this make me egotistical or just neurotic?

2005-03-13 - 7:18 p.m.

Biblical conference, MORE class wars, sexism and soap stealing

Yaaayyy! I made it back from Dallas in one piece! In fact, I only hit problems on the way up there on Friday. Like how it should theoretically take 4 hours to get from here to there, but instead it took 7. I blame all those damn spring breakers. Dumb kids! Don't you know that to get to Mexico and/or the beach you go SOUTH?! Quit gumming up north-bound Interstate 35 then, will you?

Aaaannnnyyyway, after that Jason and I tried to track down my Dallas freinds. We got severely lost but finally wound up in the right place.... only it was in a neighborhood of mansions. I knew Grayson's parent's were well off, but I somehow neglected to consider the inevitable effect this would have on Jason. As we drove down streets lined with large stone houses, tasteful landscaping, and *ahem* Hummers, I could see a class war acting itself out behind Jason's eyes. This is a fun fact about Jason that I may not have mentioned before. While much of our culture is built upon status, stuff and striving, Jason doesn't play that game. So while I'm saying "damn, look at Grayson's house, will ya? This place is incredible!" Jason's skin is crawling. Jason and I both grew up legally below the poverty line but I developed an intellectual elitism somewhere in the course of my growing up. This forces me to move in ever socially-upward circles, if only because I inevitably make friends with people as/more smart/educated as/than myself, and that group seems to have the money to provide for such an education. Just how it goes- it's not that I don't like people of my own class (actually, I've kinda stopped considering that my class since I fake otherwise so well) but I keep finding myself the narrator at one of Gatsby's parties, if you know what I mean. Jason, on the other hand, pukes at the notion. He feels more comfortable talking to the homeless guys at the bus stop than his collegues. I respect that, but I wanted him to be all warm and friendly when he met my Dallas friends. I knew he would be a bit shy, but that was compounded by his status issues.
Good times.
Then we went to a sushi bar.
Note to self: Never take Jason to sushi bar.

Other than Jason's perpetual nervousnes, Friday night was lovely. I got to see Rose and Grayson again, which was fun. They informed me that Psycho Ex Roommate is fat and getting married soon. I love it when bad things happen to people I don't like! No, I take that back. Even though she was a crazy traumatic bitch, I know that it was only because she had been molested by her step-father and I shouldn't dislike her because all of her idiosyncracies were not her fault, but caused by her horrible past. I forgive her and wish her the best.
But I still don't like her.

After dinner Jason and I went back to the hotel. It was swanky beyond swankiness, but don't worry- it was paid for by Jason's research grant. Somehow that's a worthy expense in the eyes of the school, so I'm not arguing. Go-go-higher education! It also gave me another chance to pretend to be better off than I am... I mean, other than the part where I stole lots of little bitty soaps from the roomcleaning cart. Then again, maybe I'm just a klepto.

The conference, however, was a blast. I saw a lot of great papers and an equal number of lousy ones. My favorite presentation was on what happened to the women who mated with the angels in 1 Enoch. It was something I had been wondering about since I first read the story. The fact that I am so delighted by such an obscure piece of scholarship is a reminder that I was born a nerd, shall die a nerd, and all the days in between shall be devoted to nerdiness. What made my day as much as the paper itself was the fact that the author seemed to take a shine to me. In fact, all the young(ish) women there did. I got the distinct feeling of being in a Good-Ol-Boys club, and I suppose the other women did too. I think the mentality was that we had to band together lest we be sat upon by the dozens of large and bumbilng preacher types.

I would like to say at this point that I am not an angry feminist imagining discrimination where it does not exist. For years I thought that anyone still fighting for women's rights was beating a dead horse. I had never really felt discriminated against (I mean sure, I thought it was cool that I didn't have to pay for drinks and could cry my way out of a speeding ticket, but that's positive sexism and doesn't count) but as I get higher and higher the glare off the glass ceiling is blinding. I was more aware of it at this conference than I have ever been. I would ask a question of one of the presenters and be dismissed in a word while Jason could ask the same question and get a full scholarly refutation. I was offended.

Speaking of the women there, one of them was the chair of the Arts, Literature and Religion pannel. She gave me one of the highest compliments I have ever recieved. She asked if I would be presenting a paper at the next meeting. The thought had never occurred to me before, but Hell, if she thinks I'm up to it (and Dr. Raphael promply chimed in to agree that I am) then maybe I am!

To further boost my ego, they had free wine at the reception Friday evening and the disgruntled looking barmaid didn't ask for my ID. That's a first. I suppose they assume that if you're far enough along in your studies to attend a conference like that you must be well over 21. While I realize that in 15 years I'll be elated when someone asks for my ID, for now I'm glad to not be asked. I spend a substantial amount of time pretending to be older than I am. My motivation is that in circumstances like this conference I'm already being written off as unimportant for being a woman- how much worse would it be if the WASPy old men knew that I was *gasp* not only female but barely 21?

*sigh*
It's so difficult being young, sexy AND brilliant. Poor me.

The last thing I wrote before this thing. The next thing I wrote after this.