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hail is hitting the glass with urgency. i didn't know it hailed here, in this warm region. wind is gushing through the window and swirling damply around me, lifting my skirt in panic. most sexually abused children don't recall their abuse until their early 20's. will i? re-read The Drama of the Gifted Child. i don't feel special anymore. just like everyone else. that's happy, in a way. i want everyone to read it. no one i know is exempt. psychoanalysis is intriguing. i can't stand guys who hit on me and are full of shit. this guy kept asking me what i was reading (the above book), kept asking me what it was about, kept babbling about his stupid opinions on psychoanalysis and how he "didn't like it." (not that he gave any good reasons. oh yes, now i remember. he doesn't agree with Freud, as if Freud was the end-all and be-all of psychoanalysis. that's about as good as disliking science because you disagree with aristotle.) i asked him if he had read much theory and he replied (repeated himself) that he had read a lot, but he didn't much like psychoanalysis. (idiot didn't even know what theory was, and was trying to play it cool. it would have been fine if he'd said he didn't know what theory was. not everyone does. but no! he has to look cool!) i said, "what about other kinds of theory?" instead of admitting that he had no clue what theory was (like a normal human being) the lecher says: "wellll..., give me an example." "umm…race theory," i say. should have mentioned new historicism; that would have really fucked him up. "not really. i haven't read much of that. what are some of your favorite umm… theory authors?" The expression on my face must have been deeply scornful by that point, because foxglove was busting up laughing on the other side of the room. why can boys be so dumb? if they would admit ignorance, they could avoid displaying stupidity. ick. |