Got to love the socially-accepted racism just dripping off those charming leprechaun drawings hanging everywhere these days, huh?
Those of you who know me may already know my feelings towards St Pat’s Day. I get green socks in the mail from my folks. I wear them. I consider myself 100% Irish for the day. And I watch The Quiet Man (1952), like nature intended on St Pat’s.
And I stay at home all day and night, hiding.
St Pat’s is fine if celebrated with socks and Maureen O'Hara. However, when celebrated by drunken rowdiness and idiocy, this makes the day, in fact, evil. Socks or no.
And since this St Pat’s is on a Friday, I’m pretty sure anyone who tries to walk the streets at night will be immediately plowed by some drunk Filipino-German-Scotch guy displaying a “Kiss Me I’m Irish” button and careening towards every sober person and lamppost he can find. The latter he will not hit because the luck of the Irish will save him. The former will not be me – I do not depend on the Irish luck, and I am sure my Jewish luck would have my ass in traction, so I am staying home with my cat and praying that a drunk driver doesn’t come hurtling through my fourth story apartment wall.
If you do not know me, and would like to hear more of my views on St Pat’s Day, then please visit my article on OMG Jeremy.
So what else is up…? I have been dreaming a great deal these days. The other night I freaked myself out because every single dream (and they were several distinct ones) featured my Buddhist monk classmate. Some were as mundane as sitting in class, but some others were extraordinarily bizarre. And no, I will not tell you what they were. That is between me and the Buddha.
However, I did look up the meaning of monks in dreams, and I can share this. In fact, it is not good… In China, to dream of a monk: “Foretells dissensions in the family and unpleasant journeyings. To a young woman, this dream signifies that gossip and deceit will be used against her. To dream that you are a monk denotes personal loss and illness.” (The good news is that I don’t think I dreamt that I was a monk… The bad news is people are gonna gossip me to death within a week.)
Of course, according to pop-culture Western dream dictionaries, a Buddhist monk may mean: insight, compassion, and inner spirituality (need for, search for, the advent of… etc.)
Of course this dichotomy is mostly due to the whole Asian association with Buddhist monks as burying practitioners, and the Western image of Buddhism as being all noble and peaceful and wonderful, right? Thus, because I think dream symbols are crap anyway (even though I did look them up and then spend several minutes writing them out), and that if there is anything at all to this stuff it must be culture bound, I choose to believe the Western interpretation.
Destiny is what you make it.
Other than that nothing of any real excitement has occurred since John’s admission to MA, and my presentation. However, I did spend an afternoon cutting out stars for our conference art show and reception today… and I re-read Sense and Sensibility to unwind from my ritual studies ordeal. Oh, and I was almost so un-paranoid about the silver fish, because their numbers had dwindled so, that I was actually surprised to see one scuttle by when I turned on the light tonight! That is a miracle. (Besides - all the talk of the wicked house centipede actually made me realize that my silver fish were really kind of cute.)
And speaking of miracles, my friend Kathryn sent me a little gem on Wednesday night (to cheer me up after my presentation). Enjoy… and wonder.
(PS: I'm sorry that I’m later than usual with my post tonight. I got wrapped up in A Day at the Races (1937). The best tonic for my presentation woe is to get back on the horse… Pun only semi-intentional.)
4 comments:
Perhaps the gossip that will begin will concern your monk friend and your less than holy secret LOVE for him? At least, that was my first thought. Then I called all of your friends, professors, and students to tell them of my speculation.
My favorite thing about rumors is that it is impossible to find out where they originated.
If you squeal any further, I'll make him use his secret monk powers on you.
At least I assume these powers exist. Buddhist monks are right up there with Jedis, right?
I have always thought they were. I like the little incense burns some monks have on their little bald monk heads. How cute they are.
I keep asking Mitra to show me his monk tricks, like levitating something, but he refuses and laughs... I'll keep trying. Eventually, he'll have to break down and do it.
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