It’s the day that all December applications are due, and all of mine are officially in. I do have to offer up a giant “Fuck You” to Columbia University for their asinine policy of not holding themselves responsible for a huge problem with their online application that froze the recommendation pages, so professors couldn’t upload their recommendations. (This was discovered on Monday. Their basic answer for me was “Well it should have been in already” I am ALL for sending things in early, but if the deadline is December 15, submitting something on the 12th is perfectly acceptable. They didn’t do anything to inform applicants that the system wasn’t working, nor are they accepting documents that get their late as a result. When I checked this mornign, the problem still hadn’t been fixed. (This has apparently been a problem since last Wednesday. I found out about it on Monday. This is plenty of time for them to have informed people to send things by regular mail) So, fuck you Columbia. You should be using Embark like ALL THE OTHER SCHOOLS USE FOR ONLINE APPLICATIONS BECAUSE IT ACTUALLY WORKS.
Grrrr. Anyway. The applications are in. They are out of my hands. Cross your fingers for me.
I’ve just finished Ignorance by Milan Kundera. It was a lovely little novella. What I adore about Kundera is the way in which he seamlessly blends philosophy into his narrative. He is nothing short of lyrical. He uses very little dialogue. He captures a train of thought
This guy I used to know was mildly befuddled by the way my mind worked. The way it was never quiet, keeping me away as it delved deeply into each topic is jumped to – because his mind worked so differently. So one night, when I couldn’t sleep, I just wrote down a train of thought. I used a lot of parenthesis for the asides, in many cases double sets of parenthesis. There’s no way I could explain to someone the way I think. I had to show it by writing down what I was thinking. That’s what Kundera does. There’s very little action, and even less conversation. But you understand so well what’s going on, and why the characters are doing things, because you’ve read their thoughts. This isn’t a unique device, but the way in which he wields it is so insanely…evocative. I don’t necessarily remember the characters names, or the details of the plot, but I remember the asides.
I can’t say I try to emulate him, because I was writing in a long-winded, descriptive style long before I read my first Kundera novel (The Incredible Lightness of Being, which is simply beautiful) but it’s always nice to find an author who has perfected the art of the overwrought. Kundera has also “literary zinged” me, hardcore.
Every love relationship rests on an unwritten agreement unthinkingly concluded by the lovers in the first weeks of their love. They are still in a kind of dream but at the same time, without knowing it, are drawing up, like uncompromising lawyers, the detailed clauses of their contract. O lovers! Be careful in those dangerous first days! Once you’ve brought breakfast in bed you’ll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of loveless ness and betrayal.
In the first weeks of their love, it was decided between Karol and Marketa that Karol would be the unresponsive and Marketa would accept it, but that Marketa would have the right to be the better of the two and Karol would feel guilt. No one knew better than Marketa how sad it is to be better. She was better, but only for lack of anything better. With eloquent concision, it expressed the entire situation of her life: everything Marketa did she did for Karol and because of Karol.
When she was young, she had almost been too free. An old English teacher had watched her and laughed, “I feel sorry for the man who marries you Marketa,” he said. “No one will be able to reign you in.” So why, why did she do this to herself? Why did she continue to cause herself pain? Why, like Sisyphus, did she continue to push a bolder up the hill? The weight of her marriage crashed down upon her.
She no longer enjoyed being better.
-From the Book of Laughter and Forgetting. Zinged. June 2004
So the apartment thing is turning into a circus. I’m already stressed about it, so I’m not going to write about it, especially because the situation changes every ten minutes. I can be online, but not on the phone at work, and being out of touch is maddening. Every problem that crops up has to be solved “like, yesterday.”
However, last night was surprisingly de-stressing. I saw King Kong, officially breaking my streak of only going to the movies on X-Mas Day. I had no expectations for the movie, but I enjoyed it, and it was very well done. Except for the freakish amount of critter-y things. Mutant bug things that can crawl all over you squick me out. There were parts where I had to just close my eyes, because I have issues with watching an attack of Giant Many-Legged Bugs. I am cringing just thinking about it. I also very much liked the 1930s era New York scenery.
I have tomorrow off. The transit strike wouldn’t affect my commute if it happens. CK & I were both bragging about how, coming from Jersey, the transit strike won’t affect our commutes. (We took a moment to pound knuckled and declare that Jersey rulz #1, yo) Since we’re similarly minded, we were both saying we hope the strike happens so we can watch all the chaos unfold. As CK said, “there’s nothing better than spite!”
And it’s December 15th, and so in honor of that I repeat; Always. And remind myself that somewhere in this insanity, I must make time to make a phone call!
