i'm such an old fart i go to bed much earlier than all these youngins. and i'm not twenty for a few more months, but i fell like i've been stuck in the teens for quite some time now. Just was flipping through some things. wow someone has a very strong vibrator on their telly! (nothing to do w ith the previous sentence).
this morning consisted of feeling sick and not going in to volunteer. i continue to feel somewhat sick , but in the meantime i bought a much wanted pair of jeans (all the ones i have that i love have holes in the crotch). saw caroline for a lil bit and then had cheese and crackers and watched antiques roadshow at her apartment. start the library job tomorrow woot!
all the sticky tack keeps melting on my walls and i don't know why, it's not even warm out.
got a lot of hair chopped off in northampton when i went home this past weekend. it was an envigorating experience.
in addition, i went through old photos while home. quite some funny ones i'd like to send out to people. weird to read about where people are these days. or people that at one time were really important to you, are they still important?
where can i find bensimon elasticized tennis shoes in the US????
Monday, May 22, 2006
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
a little research
I found this comforting and entertaining. should i give it to her?
It is truly a matter of projection, but this projection is not just one thing.(2) I can attribute to another my own feelings, ascribe to him my own faults. I can imagine him the author of my failures, see in his strength the excuse for my weakness. I shall project onto him the image of my disorder. I shall attack believing that I am defending myself, forgetting that I delivered the blows. Thus I shall escape the nameless anguish, the obscure ruminations in which I threw at myself the blocked game of my strength. I shall attack instead of attacking myself. Thereby I shall gain first of all a little more happiness. One fights badly at night; it is good to attack this or that enemy, truly real, very visible before the projector of hatred. Totally floundering among his first failures, the timid man does not have time to hate; it is with himself that he is angry. Hatred will free him, at least ostensibly, from the wrappings and shackles; he will stop suffocating in the asphyxia of auto-aggression. The walls of his prison recede. He finally has some elbow-room for his combat. Projection turns timidity into hatred; it finally puts my own strength to work in the world.
However, I find in it only breathing space. As in the tale by Poe, moving walls close in around me. I shall accuse another in order to divert my remorse, but new remorse, heavier, will follow my calumny. I shall accuse more violently to ward off the resurgence of my increased guilt. I have not suppressed, I have simply delayed the aggressive return of my blocked strength. The counter-blow comes from further away, and also hits harder.
I thought to have thrown my captive energy outside of me. But here it is thrown back at me. An infernal circle of projection and hatred. The more I hate, says Baruk, (3) the more I tend to punish myself; increased, my remorse engenders new hatred. At the limit this projection runs aground in delirium. The timid man slides down into melancholy, and from melancholy to persecution. An alibi is not a transference.
It is truly a matter of projection, but this projection is not just one thing.(2) I can attribute to another my own feelings, ascribe to him my own faults. I can imagine him the author of my failures, see in his strength the excuse for my weakness. I shall project onto him the image of my disorder. I shall attack believing that I am defending myself, forgetting that I delivered the blows. Thus I shall escape the nameless anguish, the obscure ruminations in which I threw at myself the blocked game of my strength. I shall attack instead of attacking myself. Thereby I shall gain first of all a little more happiness. One fights badly at night; it is good to attack this or that enemy, truly real, very visible before the projector of hatred. Totally floundering among his first failures, the timid man does not have time to hate; it is with himself that he is angry. Hatred will free him, at least ostensibly, from the wrappings and shackles; he will stop suffocating in the asphyxia of auto-aggression. The walls of his prison recede. He finally has some elbow-room for his combat. Projection turns timidity into hatred; it finally puts my own strength to work in the world.
However, I find in it only breathing space. As in the tale by Poe, moving walls close in around me. I shall accuse another in order to divert my remorse, but new remorse, heavier, will follow my calumny. I shall accuse more violently to ward off the resurgence of my increased guilt. I have not suppressed, I have simply delayed the aggressive return of my blocked strength. The counter-blow comes from further away, and also hits harder.
I thought to have thrown my captive energy outside of me. But here it is thrown back at me. An infernal circle of projection and hatred. The more I hate, says Baruk, (3) the more I tend to punish myself; increased, my remorse engenders new hatred. At the limit this projection runs aground in delirium. The timid man slides down into melancholy, and from melancholy to persecution. An alibi is not a transference.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
oh my god, why am i listening to oasis?
yes, i'm quite a traitor, aren't i?
well, i have two exams left. scandinavian lit. tomorrow, and then hopefully the sommerville open studioes will proove successful for me, even thought i didn't 'sign up'. but i need the cash because i'm worried now because they are only giving me two days at nomad this summer----eeep!!! but i just talked to stacy from scandinavian lit----an it is possible i could get a job up in the media center up at tisch library for the summer....else julia's going to have to find something else!
i've started making some zipper pouches with all the awesome fabric that i have now! it's exciting!!! i might make some more tonight if i get bored with studying.
i'm not as (oh my god i'm not going to say it) depressed as i was the other day....but honeslty i think it has a lot to do with the weather....and maybe roommates.
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