My life is finally my own again!

Big words. Talking big has gotten me into tight spots (some more pleasureable than others) in the past, so I might want to temper those. Just a little. Dreaming big, now that, on the other hand should never stop. Never. And making dreams a reality? Isn't that what we were made to do? Isn't that man's innate impulse? Oh, I don't know, but I think that letting go of some of the control that has me so tightly wound couldn't be a bad thing. Everyone needs a little release from the tension. (And it being national masturbation month and all... no? - although it is also important to note that we have this preconceived notion that masturbation must be a solitary act, when there is no rule that it not be a mutually (or multiply?) gratifying experience... but I digress).

Today my release is that the conference is FINALLY over. Ahhh. And it was on time, and there was time for discussion and Key Note speakers were attended to, and technology was employed with no snafus and... I can breath. (And go back to my pile of "real" work)... And all I am really itching to do is write some more stories, and read something that is as far from high-brow as possible. But my hands are tied.

Actually I am rather pleased with the outcome, and of course I now have embarked myself on the odyssey of editing and publishing the proceedings, but that comes with a wholly different set of stresses, and a somewhat more lenient time-line.

And speaking of release, Sandra gave an amazing presentation on monuments and collective memory, which had me stealthily wiping tears of indignation and rebellion from my cheeks as image after image built upon the deep inhumanity of man towards his fellow man, or woman towards her fellow woman. She had a very interesting take on the use of images of children in the construction of memory, and how there is a triangular gaze of the adult who projects not only his or her present, but past, and the possibility of an unrealized future charging the image with deeper significance.

And now it is done. And I have to read "El buscón" and "Sueños del infierno" in addition to a chunk of critical theory before I write a paper for Tuesday (I can't wait until this school year is over and I don't have miserably long Tuesdays... next year it will be Thursdays, I think... but, enough is enough!) And I am totally distractable, yes, I did lock my keys in the car again today. This has never happened to me before, but I think it is more the car's fault than anything else... being from 1984 there is no ding-ding-ding when I leave the lights on or leave the keys in the ignition, and since I have to unlock and relock the door manually from the rear-passenger door, I am too busy concentrating on the task of locking all my doors to be bothered with something so insignificant as my source of re-opening said doors.

Perhaps this is all propitiated by my lack of sleep? Dreams come and I lay alone in fitful bouts of insomnia, sometimes with a foot in my face or a hand in its eternal search for midnight cleavage (When will my breasts be my own??? Shouldn't five years be enough?) Am I Gregor in the throes of metamorphosis? Is this a mere interlude, elusive and escaping, revealing itself only to dissappear again, in a game worthy of Barthian analysis? Am I suffering from what Eco chides- overinterpretation?

Yesterday in an analysis of "Nadie conoce a nadie" one of the presenters had titled her video-clips "Leather". I never figured out why but I was lost in a reverie from "Little Earthquakes"... amazing how mysterious the human mind is...this is totally unrelated to everything else, and expresses a vision of love far less romantic than my own silly notions, but the words of this song have been running through my head in little snippets ever since:

Look I’m standing naked before you
Don’t you want more than my sex
I can scream as loud as your last one
But I can’t claim innocence

Oh God could it be the weather
Oh God why am I here
If love isn’t forever
And it’s not the weather
Hand me my leather

I could just pretend that you love me
The night would lose all sense of fear
But why do I need you to love me
When you can’t hold what I hold dear

Oh God could it be the weather
Oh God why am I here
If love isn’t forever
And it’s not the weather
Hand me my leather

I almost ran over an angel
He had a nice big fat cigar
’in a sense’ he said ’you’re alone here
So if you jump you best jump far

Oh God could it be the weather
Oh God why am I here
If love isn’t forever
And it’s not the weather

Oh God could it be the weather
Oh God it’s all very clear
If love isn’t forever
And it’s not the weather
Hand me my leather