Procrastination
Right now, I'm sitting in the Grad lounge listening to GnR courtesy of H. I feel like throwing my right hand up in the air, index and pinky stretched out while all other fingers curl downwards. Metal sign-language. A sign of acceptance between fellow metal-heads; a sign of readiness to rock; a sign of expression: rage or enthusiasm.
Signs. I'm too tired to think about signs. One thought leads me to Saussure and then to Lacan but my eyes and the rest of my brain pleads with me to stop.
So, I will.
To my left lays Environmental Science. I need to start my syllabus and reading through this text. The picture on the front is of a man standing on a semi-grassy ledge. He stares to his right at the rushing waters of a waterfall. The falling water is so massive that it engulfs 3/4 of the cover, and its rushing molecules sometimes take the form of smoke and other times of thick canopies of brushy-trees. The feeling, though, is of movement. The water moves, anyway, leaving the mossy ledge and edge-standing man strangely solitary and minimalized. The emphasis is upon the enviroment. The roaring cascade of water and lush brown-green soak-filled turf beckons. I, like the l(one)ly man must exit this blogsite in order to explore the world through the square confines of a book. Inside the book, of course, lies the text. It is through this sign-system (a rigid facade of "objectivity") that I and my unborn class will discover the themes upon which we shall form arguments. Only, unlike the unknown man who could be the "No One" of Homer's Odyssey for he stands there with the assurance of one who has mastered certain trials of life, we will embark upon this journey into the construction of argumentative papers together.
A bit over the top, I know. But not bad for procrastination, huh?
Signs. I'm too tired to think about signs. One thought leads me to Saussure and then to Lacan but my eyes and the rest of my brain pleads with me to stop.
So, I will.
To my left lays Environmental Science. I need to start my syllabus and reading through this text. The picture on the front is of a man standing on a semi-grassy ledge. He stares to his right at the rushing waters of a waterfall. The falling water is so massive that it engulfs 3/4 of the cover, and its rushing molecules sometimes take the form of smoke and other times of thick canopies of brushy-trees. The feeling, though, is of movement. The water moves, anyway, leaving the mossy ledge and edge-standing man strangely solitary and minimalized. The emphasis is upon the enviroment. The roaring cascade of water and lush brown-green soak-filled turf beckons. I, like the l(one)ly man must exit this blogsite in order to explore the world through the square confines of a book. Inside the book, of course, lies the text. It is through this sign-system (a rigid facade of "objectivity") that I and my unborn class will discover the themes upon which we shall form arguments. Only, unlike the unknown man who could be the "No One" of Homer's Odyssey for he stands there with the assurance of one who has mastered certain trials of life, we will embark upon this journey into the construction of argumentative papers together.
A bit over the top, I know. But not bad for procrastination, huh?
