in which I am affected
At the beginning of my Gender and Language seminar today, I told a colleague that I have always rather liked his pencil case (a fuzzy green hippo who zips open!). He blew me off. I mean, he didn't even look at me or acknowledge that I had spoken. I probably shouldn't have been surprised. He is one of the many folks I've encountered in graduate school who has displayed signs of thinking I am a flighty idiot.
When I speak, I do so effusively. I feel something about everything. And I do not hesitate to begin my observations or my theories with those very words: "I feel." "I feel like George Eliot means to make the quotidian into the epic." "I feel like Cixous is almost giving a confession here." "I feel like JSF isn't advocating vegetarianism so much as informed consumption." That's just who I am. It's probably the main reason that I am pursuing affect theory as a specialty.
I've noticed an increasing amount of blank looks from my classmates. In my Victorian seminar I swear I've seen some of the other students exchanging 'looks' when I speak. And today, this young man totally ignored my compliment of his own fuzzy green hippo pencil case. And THEN, when I brought up Judith Butler in a question, he neglected to answer it--when, less than 30 minutes later in a presentation about his paper, he brought out a text by Butler and proceeded to quote from it. It was as if my question was not worth answering just due to the simple fact that it had come from me. Me. The gal in the flowery dress reminiscent of the Swiss Alps, her hair in gratuitously childlike pigtails, and bright fucking orange knee socks poking out of her boots.
dress: shop in Brussels
leggings: American Apparel
socks: Sock Dreams
boots: Clarks, gifted
I'm not going to apologize. I am the way that I am. I get excited about texts. Deal with it. If you don't get excited about texts, what the hell are you doing in a program dedicated to the meticulous probing of--le gasp--texts?!
Sorry y'all--[/end rant]